Chapter VIII: Sunday with Miss Pringle

TOM thought seven o'clock never would come on Sunday morning. He was up and dressed soon after five, but he dare not open the house, having received orders to wait in the kitchen.

Miss Pringle was down-stairs punctually, and after wishing Tom good morning, told him to unfasten the shutters and unbolt the doors. This was soon done. Then he received instructions to carry a pail to the well in the garden, and fill it with water.

"I'm very lucky," said his mistress. "While all the people in Dixtown are short of water, and have to go to the public spring, my well is supplied."

This announcement did not particularly interest Tom, moreover he was impatient to get into the garden. "I don't believe I can stay here long," he muttered, as he walked along swinging his pail. "I must have fresh air, and there's little to be got in my present quarters."

Tom had a sensation of enjoyment he had never experienced before as he looked at the flowers and felt the warm sunlight. "How beautiful Norton Island will be to-day! How I shall like to peep at it this afternoon!" he thought. And then he sighed, and said aloud, "I've been silly, very silly, not to find steady work nearer home. I declare I shall miss them all. I wonder if I really am much worse than other boys?"

"Make haste, Tom," called out Miss Pringle, in a sharp, shrill voice.

The boy began to pump, and the water came at first, though slowly; but before his pail was full, it ceased altogether.

Tom pumped on for some minutes, but not another drop could he get. "It's no use trying any more," he said. "I must just go and tell her what's happened."

On his way back, he picked up an apple that lay in his path, and began eating it.

"What did you throw away just now?" asked his mistress, coming out to meet him.

"A bit of an apple, Miss Pringle," said Tom.

"How dare you touch my fruit?"

"It was a very bad one, and only fit for the pigs, Miss Pringle."

"Bad or not bad, you shall obey me. I shall punish you for it. Why have you not filled the pail?"

"There isn't any more water in the well," answered Tom, rudely.

"I don't believe it. You haven't pumped properly."

"But I know I have. You'd better go and try the pump yourself."

"Speak respectfully, Tom. After you have filled the kettle, follow me, for I intend you to pump while I look on."

Tom did as he was told, but not pleasantly. As they passed the peach-tree, Miss Pringle stopped to count her peaches.

"One gone," she said angrily. "You've taken it, Tom."

"Suppose I haven't, Miss Pringle."

"Did you, or did you not take it, sir?"

"No, Miss Pringle," replied Tom positively, and moved toward the pump.

"I wish I'd never taken him; he seems worse than other boys, and more difficult to manage," thought the spinster. "Now, Tom, pump," she said aloud.

The boy pumped again, but with the same result. And at length, his mistress was obliged to confess, though very reluctantly, that she must do as others had done for some weeks, make use of the public spring.

"It's most provoking, Tom," she said; "you must be very careful of the water we've got, for I don't intend you to fetch any to-day. I'm not going to have the neighbour's giggling at my expense on Sunday. You can only wash your hands once more to-day, and Miss Newton must do with a short allowance. Now come to breakfast."

Miss Pringle had prepared the porridge when Annie came into the kitchen. She wished Tom and her landlady good morning, and made some remark about the fine day.

"I'm in great trouble," whined Miss Pringle, without returning her greeting.

"What is the matter?"

"My pump has gone dry, Miss Annie."

"But, with such a beautiful spring so near, that need not trouble you," answered the young girl, cheerfully.

"You're just like all other children, Miss Newton; as if any public spring could be as good as a private well. You will find out I'm right before the day is out, for you must do with what water you have up-stairs for washing. I've only just enough for the teapots."

"I'm afraid I cannot do without a small jugful in addition; papa needs some warm water to bathe his eyes with."

"He can't have any, Miss Annie. To-morrow there will be plenty."

"You can beg a little from next door, Miss Pringle. Mrs. Wilkins fills her large tub every Saturday for Sunday's use."

"I'm surprised at you, miss. Do you think I mean to sink so low as to ask my neighbour to give me water?"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of," answered Annie, with some spirit; "but at any rate, if you dislike asking Mrs. Wilkins, I can do so; poor papa cannot go without warm water for his eyes."

"May I fetch you a jugful from the spring?" asked Tom, eagerly.

"Thomas, you forget yourself," said Miss Pringle, angrily. "It is not my habit to send my boy out to fetch water on Sunday."

"Thank you all the same for your kind offer, Tom," replied Annie; "I shall manage somehow," she added, as she left the kitchen. She was half way up-stairs when the thought occurred to her that he might be without books, so she returned once more, and said, "If you come up-stairs and tap at the door after you have had your dinner, Tom, I will give you a book, and introduce you to papa."

"Thank you, miss," he answered.

Miss Pringle was in the habit of attending the village church at Annerly, which was about a mile and a half distant. The way through the fields to it was a charming one, so pretty that Tom could scarcely restrain himself and walk steadily, he wanted so much to gather wild-flowers, and chase the bees and butterflies.

His attention wandered in many directions as he sat in the free seats by the side of his mistress, until these words caught his ear:

"Thou shalt not steal."

They made the blood rush into his cheeks. After this, his old grandmother and her lost cat occupied his thoughts. He wondered how the poor old lady would spend her Sunday without her favourite? He could not shake off the remembrance of his wicked act, and grew so uncomfortable at last that he moved about and shuffled his feet, until he received a warning look and pinch from Miss Pringle.

He forgot his discomfort as he walked home; but then the warm sun and fresh air were so pleasant after sitting still so long, and he was to call on Mr. Newton directly after dinner, and could amuse himself in his own way until evening. One thing he decided upon, which was, to climb the castle-hill and look over to Norton Island. He could not have put his feelings into words had he tried to express them, but he had a strange yearning for his own people that he had never felt before. He wanted so much to see them, for though he had only slept one night away, it seemed as if many days had passed.

Miss Pringle had roasted a shoulder of mutton on the previous afternoon to be cold for Sunday. Tom was very hungry, and glad to think the dinner would be so substantial. He helped his mistress to set the table, and took his place, wondering why she placed a morsel of dry bacon opposite to him. He soon learnt why it was there.

After Miss Pringle had cut a large plate of mutton for herself, she said, in a grave, stern voice, "You took my apples, Thomas, when I expressly ordered you not to touch one, therefore you will have no mutton to-day. Eat that bacon. Another time you will only have bread and water."

The boy was about to answer rudely, when conscience whispered, "You deserve the punishment; remember, you stole a peach and denied the theft;" so he kept silence.

"Your time is your own until half-past eight o'clock, Tom," said the spinster when dinner was over. "I wish you to go out at once."

"May I see Miss Annie first?" he asked.

"I suppose she will expect you; but do not be long, or you will keep me waiting."

"I can shut the door when I go out," suggested Tom.

"Indeed, you will do no such thing. I never allow my boy to be idling about the house when I am in my room. Go up-stairs at once, and don't stay more than five minutes."

Tom tapped at Mr. Newton's door.

It was opened by Annie. "Come in," she said. "Papa would like to see you."

They entered into conversation together, and Tom was enjoying his visit very much, when Miss Pringle knocked loudly, and asked, "How much longer do you mean to keep me waiting, Tom?"

"I mustn't stay," said the boy, rising as he spoke.

"How will you spend the afternoon?" questioned Annie.

"I hardly know, miss, except that I mean to go to the castle-hill, and look at Norton Island."

"Here's a little book for you. Will you promise to read it?"

"Yes, miss, that I will."

"It's called 'Come to Jesus.' Take your Bible, and look out the texts which are referred to, and some day you shall tell me if you have accepted the invitation which Christ gives to all to come."

Tom had no Bible of his own, but did not like to confess this to his new friend; so he took the book she held out to him hastily, and said, "Good afternoon."

"You've been chattering up there too long. I hate gossiping," were the words he heard from his mistress as he entered the kitchen. "It's quite four minutes since I knocked for you to come down."

"I'm quite ready to go now," said Tom, fetching his cap.

Miss Pringle followed him to the front door, and locked it; she then retired to her bedroom, for she knew that the next two hours would be undisturbed. No visitor ever came on Sunday afternoon, and her lodgers never stirred between three and five o'clock.

But she did not read, nor did she pray, nor sleep—she spent the time in counting her sovereigns. She touched them softly, lest Mr. Newton or his daughter should hear them chink; but she touched them with a thrill of joy, for the possession of them had mastered every other feeling. She only lived to store up her money, and seemed to forget that God might one day say to her, "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee; then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?"

Tom walked quietly along, sometimes peeping through the iron railing to get a better view of the bay. When he came to the gate which led to the pathway down the cliff, he sat down on the seat for a few minutes, and took out his book. As he opened it, these words arrested his attention,—

"If you come not to Jesus when young, it is not likely you will come at all. Habit will fasten strong chains around you, which will be harder to burst asunder every day. While you wait, Satan works. He is busy tying knots. You are his prisoner, and he is making more and more secure the cords which bind you. Whenever you sin he ties another knot."

Tom could read well, and was by no means a dull boy. "I suppose Satan tied a knot when I stole the peach, and another when I ate the apples, and I can't tell how many when I killed grandmother's cat," he said to himself.

Then he read the heading of the chapter—it was this, "Ye who are young, come."

"It seems easy enough to come in a book," murmured Tom; "but it ain't easy. I'll read the chapter over again when I get on the hill. I really wish I'd a Bible of my own. I think I'll save up, and buy one."

He walked on until he reached Mother Crampton's house, and here he was stopped, for she was taking in some milk as he passed, and asked him where he was going to.

"The castle-hill," he replied.

"Would you like to take tea with me first, and go to the castle-hill later?" she asked.

Tom's face expressed the pleasure he felt, though he only answered, "Thank you."

The old woman and young boy became fast friends at that first tea drinking. Tom told her what a character he had earned on the island; how unkind he was to his brothers; how often he vexed and annoyed his parents; and he showed her his little book, and pointed to the chapter he had just read; but he did not tell her of the wrong-doing which was weighing more heavily on his conscience than all his other misdeeds.

Mother Crampton spoke very unreservedly to him, and Tom heard her with deep interest. She made it plain to him that unless he cried for mercy, the chains of sin would bind round him so tightly that he would find them hard indeed to unfasten. But he learned, too, that One was at hand to help him—One was waiting to give His Spirit in answer to prayer—One was listening to catch the first faint echo of the cry,—

"Father, I have sinned against Heaven, and before Thee."

"Good-bye, my dear boy," said Mother Crampton at parting. "Come to me next Sunday, and instead of lounging on the castle-hill, you shall accompany me to God's house. Don't let Satan tie any more knots this week; try and unfasten the old knots, which he has been tying for so many years, by prayer. Ask in faith, and the answer will come."

"I wish—how I do wish!—I had courage to tell her all," thought Tom, as he threw himself on the turf when he reached the castle-hill. "I know I should have been a deal happier, and now I'm really right-down miserable."