Fanny, the Flower-Girl Part 2

"Barns, nor h.o.a.rded store have we"--

"It is not the lilies, grandmother, but the blessed birds that are speaking now--

"Barns, nor h.o.a.rded store have we, Yet we carol joyously; Mortals, fly from doubt and sorrow, G.o.d provideth for the morrow."

Poor Mrs. Newton clasped her thin hands, and looked up, and prayed like the disciples, "Lord, increase our faith!"

"Eh!" said she, afterwards, "is it not strange that we can trust our Lord and Saviour with the care of our souls for eternity, and we cannot trust Him with that of our bodies for a day."

Well! this was poor Mrs. Newton's state on that day, when the gentleman gave f.a.n.n.y the half-sovereign instead of sixpence, for her flowers.

When the little flower-girl came back from her race with her two sixpences, she found the old vegetable-seller had got her three or four pennies more, by merely showing her basket, and telling why it was left at his stall; and so every one left a penny for the honest child, and hoped the gentleman would reward her well. The old man at the stall said it was very shabby of him only to give her sixpence; but when she went home with three sixpences and told Mrs. Newton this story, she kissed her little girl very fondly, but said the gentleman was good to give her sixpence, for he had no right to give her anything, she had only done her duty.

"But, grandmother," said f.a.n.n.y, "when I saw that pretty half- sovereign dropping down to his purse, I could not help wis.h.i.+ng he would give it to me."

"And what commandment did you break then, my child?"

"Not the eighth--if I had kept the half-sovereign I should have broken it," said f.a.n.n.y, "for that says, thou shalt not steal--what commandment did I break, grandmother; for I did not steal?"

"When we desire to have what is not ours f.a.n.n.y, what do we do? we covet; do we not?"

"Oh! yes--thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods," cried f.a.n.n.y, "that is the tenth commandment; and that half-sovereign was my neighbor's goods, and that fat gentleman was my neighbor. But, grandmother, it is very easy to break the tenth commandment."

"Very easy indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Newton, with first a faint smile, and then a deep sigh, "therefore," she added, "we ought always to pray like David, 'Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity.'"

There is a very common saying, that when things are at the worst they mend. It is hard to say when matters are at the worst; poor Mrs.

Newton knew they might yet be worse with her; but certainly, they were very bad; and a few days after this, as f.a.n.n.y was tying up her flowers as usual, she lay on her bed thinking what she was to do, and praying that G.o.d would direct her to some way of providing for the poor child.

While she was thinking and praying, tears stole down her face; f.a.n.n.y saw them, and stopped her work, and looked sorrowfully at her--

"Now you are crying again, grandmother, she said," and that's what makes me break the tenth commandment, for I can't help wis.h.i.+ng the gentleman had given me that half-sovereign. But I will say the verses again to-day about the lilies and birds; for you know I said that morning--

'Mortals fly from doubt and sorrow, G.o.d provideth for the morrow,'

and when I came back with my three sixpences, you said G.o.d _had_ provided for the morrow, for you had only two or three pennies in the house when I went out."

"And how many pennies, pray, have you in the house to-day?" said a rather gruff voice at the door.

Mrs. Newton and f.a.n.n.y started; but there, standing at the door, f.a.n.n.y saw the fat gentleman who had given her the half-sovereign.

"So you have been wis.h.i.+ng for my gold, you little rogue," he said, looking as if he meant to frighten her. "Never mind," he added, smiling, "you are a good child, and did what was right; and I always meant to bring it back to you, but I have been kept rather busy these few days past. There it is for you, and try not to break the tenth commandment again." Then turning to Mrs. Newton, he said, "We should not expect rewards, ma'am, for doing our duty, but if children do not meet with approbation when they do right, they may be discouraged, and perhaps think there is no use in being good: for they are silly little creatures, you know, and do not always recollect that G.o.d will reward the just one day if men do not."

"Oh! sir!" said poor Mrs. Newton, but the tears streamed down, and she could not say a word more. And there f.a.n.n.y sat gazing on the half- sovereign, as if she was half stupefied.

"Well, take up that bit of gold, and do what you like with it," said the fat gentleman; "and then run off to sell your flowers, for we must not be idle because we have got enough for to-day. But do what you like with that money."

f.a.n.n.y rose up from her seat, and looking very much as if she was moving in her sleep, with her wondering eyes fixed on the s.h.i.+ning piece that lay in her hand, she walked slowly over to Mrs. Newton, and putting it into hers, said,--

"May I go to the grocer's now, grandmother, and get you the tea for your breakfast?"

"Yes, my love," said Mrs. Newton, kissing her, "and take care of this, and bring back the change carefully." Then turning to the gentleman, she said, "I am not young, sir, and I am very, very poorly; I find it hard to go without my tea, but it is a luxury I have been obliged latterly to forego."

"But could you not get tea on credit, from the grocer?" said the gentleman.

"Oh! yes, I believe so; but there would be no use in getting credit;" said Mrs. Newton, "for I am not certain of being better able to pay next week than I am this week; and when I have not the money to pay for what I wish to get, it is better to do without it, than to add to one's anxieties by running in debt. Do you not think so, sir?"

"Ma'am," said the old gentleman, sitting down, and resting his large silver-topped stick between his knees, "it is of very little consequence what I think; but if you wish to know this, I will tell you that I think very well both of you and your little girl, who, as I have heard, for I have made inquiries about you both, is a dependant on your bounty. You have trained her up well, though I wouldn't praise the child to her face; and so take as much tea as you like till you hear from me again, and your grocer need be in no trouble about his bill."

So after the fat gentleman had made this rather bluff, but honest- hearted speech, and poor Mrs. Newton had wept, and thanked him in language that sounded more polite, the good old gentleman told her his whole history.

He began the world very poor, and without relations able to a.s.sist him; he was at last taken into the employment of a young merchant in the city; he had a turn for business, and having been able to render some important services to this young man, he was finally, to his own surprise, and that of every one else, taken into partners.h.i.+p.

"During all this time," said he, "I was attached from my boyhood to the daughter of the poor schoolmaster who first taught me to read; I would not marry her while I was poor, for I thought that would be to make her wretched instead of happy; but when I was taken into partners.h.i.+p I thought my way was clear; I went off to Bethnal Green, and told Mary, and our wedding-day was settled at once. Well, we were glad enough, to be sure; but a very few days after, my partner called me into the private room, and said he wanted to consult me. He seemed in high spirits, and he told me he had just heard of a famous speculation, by which we could both make our fortunes at once. He explained what it was, and I saw with shame and regret, that no really honest man could join in it: I told him so; I told him plainly I would have nothing to do with it. You may think what followed; the deeds of partners.h.i.+p were not yet signed, and in short, in two or three days more I found myself poor Jack Walton again--indeed, poorer than I was before I was made one of the firm of Charters and Walton, for I had lost my employment.

"Often and often I used to think that David said, he had never seen the righteous forsaken; yet I was suffering while the unrighteous were prospering. It was a sinful, and a self-righteous thought, and I was obliged to renounce it; when, after some time of trial, a gentleman sent for me--a man of wealth, and told me his son was going into business on his own account; that he had heard of my character, and of the cause of my leaving Mr. Charters; that he thought I would be just such a steady person as he wished his son to be with. In short, I began with him on a handsome salary; was soon made his partner; married Mary, and had my snug house in the country. Mr.

Charters succeeded in that speculation; entered into several others, some of which were of a more fraudulent nature, failed, and was ruined. He ran off to America, and no one knows what became of him. I have left business some years. I purchased a nice property in the country, built a Church upon it, and have ever thanked G.o.d, who never forsakes those who wish to act righteously.

"It pleased G.o.d to take all my sweet children from me--every state has its trials--the youngest was just like your little flower-girl."

Mrs. Newton was much pleased with this story; she then told her own, and little f.a.n.n.y's. The fat gentleman's eyes were full of tears when she ended; when he was going away he put another half-sovereign into her hand, and saying, "The first was for the child," walked out of the house.

A short time afterwards, a clergyman came to see Mrs. Newton--she was surprised; he sat and talked with her some time, and seemed greatly pleased with her sentiments, and all she told him of herself and f.a.n.n.y. He then told her that he was the clergyman whom Mr.

Walton, on the recommendation of the bishop of the diocese, had appointed to the church he had built; that Mr. Walton had sent him to see her, and had told him, if he was satisfied with all he saw and heard, to invite Mrs. Newton and the little flower-girl to leave London, and go and live in one of the nice widows' houses, which good Mr. Walton had built, near the pretty village where he lived.

Then there was great joy in poor Mrs. Newton's humble abode; Mrs.

Newton was glad for f.a.n.n.y's sake, and f.a.n.n.y was glad for Mrs.

Newton's sake, so both were glad, and both said--

"Mortals fly from doubt and sorrow, G.o.d provideth for the morrow."

But the only difference was, that Mrs. Newton said it with watery eyes and clasped hands, lying on her bed and looking up to heaven; and f.a.n.n.y--merry little thing!--said it frisking and jumping about the room, clapping her hands together, and laughing her joy aloud.

Well, there was an inside place taken in the B---- coach, for Mrs.

Newton and f.a.n.n.y; and not only that, but kind Mrs. Walton sent up her own maid to London, to see that everything was carefully done, as the poor woman was ill, and help to pack up all her little goods; and, with her, she sent an entire new suit of clothes for the flower-girl.

They set off, and when they got near to the village the coachman stopped, and called out to know if it were the first, or the last of the red cottages he was to stop at; and Mrs. Walton's maid said, "The last,--the cottage in the garden." So they stopped at such a pretty cottage, with a little garden before and behind it. Mr. Walton had known what it was to be poor, and so, when he grew rich, he had built these neat houses, for those who had been rich and become poor. They were intended chiefly for the widows of men of business, whose character had been good, but who had died without being able to provide for their families. He had made an exception in Mrs. Newton's case, and gave her one of the best houses, because it had a pretty garden, which he thought others might not care for so much.

They went inside, and there was such a neat kitchen, with tiles as red as tiles could be; a little dresser, with all sorts of useful things; a nice clock ticking opposite the fire-place, and a grate as bright as blacklead could make it. And then there was such a pretty little room at one side, with a rose tree against the window; and a little shelf for books against the wall; and a round table, and some chairs, and an easy couch. And there were two nice bedrooms overhead; and, better than all these, was a pretty garden. Oh! how happy was the little flower-girl; and how thankful was poor Mrs. Newton! The first thing she did was to go down on her knees and thank G.o.d.

Then f.a.n.n.y was to go to the school, for Mrs. Walton had her own school, as well as the national school; but f.a.n.n.y did not know enough to go to it, so she was sent to the national school first, and afterwards she went to the other, where about a dozen girls were instructed in all things that would be useful to them through life-- whether they were to earn their bread at service, or to live in their own homes as daughters, wives, or mothers.

But every morning, before she went out, she did everything for her dear, good grandmother. She made her breakfast; she arranged her room; and she gathered some fresh flowers in the garden, and put them on the table in the little parlor. Oh! how happy was f.a.n.n.y when she looked back, and saw how nice everything looked, and then went out singing to her school--

"Barns, nor h.o.a.rded store have we, Yet we carol joyously; Mortals flee from doubt and sorrow, G.o.d provideth for the morrow."

But G.o.d will not provide for the morrow, where people will do nothing to provide for themselves; and so f.a.n.n.y, the flower-girl, knew, for surely G.o.d had blessed the labor of her childish hands.

Thus pa.s.sed time away; and f.a.n.n.y, under the instruction that she had at church, at school, and at home, "grew in grace, and in the knowledge and love of G.o.d, and of Jesus Christ our Lord."