Chapter I: The Best Kind of Help

MR. POWELL'S grasp was on the door handle, when his wife laid a detaining hand on his arm.

"Be sure and call at Ann Crompton's on your way to the office, dear," she said. "She may know 'of a suitable person to take Elizabeth's place, and whoever she recommends is certain to be trustworthy."

Mr. Powell promised, and went his way, feeling less bright than usual. The breakfast hour was generally one of the pleasantest of the day. His wife, of barely a year's standing, attended to his wants with a smiling face, and the food had a better relish, because seasoned by cheery conversation.

This morning there had been no such seasoning. Mrs. Powell's face was clouded over, and she did nothing but grumble and tell tales of her housekeeping troubles.

"Nobody is so worried as I am," she said. "Elizabeth suits to perfection, and may be trusted with untold gold. Mamma parted with her that she might come to me, knowing what such a servant would be to a young housekeeper. I have never given her a cross word, and now, after five years' service in the family, she has determined to leave, and at the worst possible time for me. Elizabeth says her mother cannot do without her, and she must go. Just as if a month or two could matter, when she has been ailing for years. I cannot leave Sarah in charge, she is too giddy; so everything will be upset. Your sisters must not count on our going to the seaside when they do; and most likely by the time I get suited with a servant in Elizabeth's place, the fine weather will be over, and our summer holiday lost. It is horribly selfish of Elizabeth."

Mr. Powell was sorry to see the clouds on his wife's pretty face, and to hear such a change in the tone of her voice. Besides, he could not agree with her. He would not, however, tell her so, or say that Elizabeth could hardly be called selfish for leaving an excellent place, where she had good wages and no anxiety, to go and nurse an ailing mother and take care of her father and the younger children in a cottage home.

He resolved to wait until the first feeling of annoyance was past, before attempting to reason with his wife, and in the meanwhile to send Ann Crompton to consult with her about a successor to Elizabeth.

"Old Ann," as everybody called her, was a cheerful body, much inclined to look at the best side of things and to help her neighbours to do likewise. She lived in a single room, in which was nothing that could well be spared, for the floor was bare, there were no hangings to the bed, only two wood-bottomed chairs, on one of which was placed a cushion, a tiny table, and a very small supply of hardware and crockery.

It might have been a palace, by the way Ann prized it and extolled its conveniences.

Somebody remarked that the bedstead was a poor one. Ann pointed out that it was better than it looked, having a sacking bottom, which was preferable to laths, being more elastic.

"The floor is bare, and must be cold to your feet," said another.

"I have a stool to put them on," said Ann, "and having nothing on it makes the floor easy to clean."

"You've only two chairs."

"There's always one for a visitor, and if two friends should come in at the same time, which doesn't often happen, there's the side of the bed for me to sit on."

"You have not two cups and saucers alike," said another neighbour.

"The tea tastes no worse for that, so long as the crockery is clean," replied Ann.

"You have not many pots and pans to scour," remarked a caller, who might have spent more time on her own with advantage to herself and them.

"I have enough for all the cooking that has to be done here," she answered. Then fearing that the words might sound like grumbling, she added: "And, thank God, I have never been without something. My bread has been given me, my water has been sure. And if my bits of things do not take me long to clean, I have all the more time to spend on the work that earns the bread."

Did somebody say, "How lonely it must be for you, living all by yourself!" Ann would answer, "There are folks within sound if not within sight. I have only to knock at the wall and somebody comes directly. My neighbours know that I never trouble them without a needs-be, and they're real kind. At nights, if I wake with my rheumatics and what not, I think to myself, 'I'm getting old and I cannot expect to be free from the infirmities that belong to age. But they will not be for long. There will be no aches nor pains, nor tired bones, nor sleepless nights in heaven. Nothing to cry for, except it be for gladness, and "God shall wipe away all tears."'"

"I cannot be lonely, for I remember that Jesus said, 'Lo I am with you alway,' and I feel sure those words were said to comfort an old disciple like me, as well as those others that saw Him in the flesh and heard His voice."

Old Ann was independent in her way. She knitted coarse stockings and did rough mending, and run odd lengths of print together for coverlets! She earned but little, and she suited her wants to her means, taking from others only what she could by no amount of industry earn for herself. Yet in time of sickness Ann never lacked a nurse, for her kindly loving nature had won her many friends, and children were ready to run for her and the elders to wait upon her, when the need arose for such neighbourly ministry.

Mrs. Powell's mother had often employed the old woman, and more than once Ann had recommended servants, who had turned out well, so it was not surprising that the young wife thought she might help her in this present difficulty.

Perhaps Mr. Powell thought she might do more good than in the matter of a servant, and he very willingly sent old Ann to have a talk with his wife.

"My husband has told you why I wished to see you, Ann, I suppose," said Mrs. Powell, when the old woman was shown into the breakfast-room.

"Not a word, ma'am. He said you would tell me," replied Ann, and then waited patiently for the story.

It ran rapidly from Mrs. Powell's lips, and the listener never interrupted her until she finished with the question, "Don't you think it is very selfish of Elizabeth?"

"Well, I can't say yes, ma'am," was the honest answer. "The girl has all to lose in the way of money, home, rest and comfort by leaving your service. But she will gain in another way. Her conscience will say she has done right in going to her sick mother, for God puts 'Honour the father and mother' next to the commandments that teach us our special duty to Himself."

"I thought you would like to help me, Ann; but you seem to think I am wrong, and you take Elizabeth's' side," said Mrs. Powell, rather sharply.

"I will help you if I can, ma'am. Nothing would please me better, though I cannot at this minute think of the right girl for you. And I can feel for you about going to the seaside, for I have just been disappointed of my own summer outing."

Mrs. Powell was interested at once, and reminded of her own want of consideration for Ann. She had missed the old woman for three weeks past, yet had never sent to ask after her until her own perplexity made her wish to see her. Since Ann's arrival she had been too full of her own concerns to inquire the reason why she had seen nothing of her for so long. She felt a hot blush rise to her cheeks as she said, "Have you been ill?"

"I'll tell you all about it, ma'am," replied Ann. "I belong to a Mothers' Class, and once a year we have a day's trip to the seaside. We reckon on it very much, for to most of us it is the only chance we have of feeling the sea breeze and seeing the waves come rolling in. We mostly have wonderful weather, and that day serves us to talk about till summer comes round again.

"This year I had my ticket and was as full of my coming holiday as a child thinking of a school feast. Would you believe it? The very night before, I slipped and sprained my ankle. My foot swelled up as big as two, and I couldn't put it on the ground. Then lumbago came on, and I couldn't turn myself in bed. I lay as helpless as a baby.

"It was a disappointment. I can't deny that, and I had very little money and not much in the way of victuals; no claim on anybody, and I was unable to wait on myself. Yes, I had a claim on God's promises, because I believed in Jesus, and I knew for His sake He would not fail to keep them. So I just put Him in mind of a few, and asked Him to help me, for He knew I couldn't help myself. I couldn't call my neighbour, for she was gone out washing very early. I was not quite sure that anybody would miss me till night, because the rest of the class members would go on by train, whether I was there or no. Some of them would be asking after me when they came back, but that would not be till half-past nine at night, because there was a two-hours' railway ride to be done before they arrived at the station, and then they would have to walk home."

"What did you do?" asked Mrs. Powell, for the moment forgetting her own worries in sympathy for her poor friend.

"Just nothing, ma'am, as I said before, and for the best of reasons. I couldn't turn over, or point a foot to the ground. I waited, feeling sure there would be something done for me, though I did not know what. I said to myself that if I could only see one or two folks and ways by whom help would come, the Lord could see plenty that I knew nothing about. I had not so much pain while I lay quite still. It was only when I moved that it was real bad, and you see I had nothing the matter with me in other ways, and I began to be hungry. For a good while I had to grin and abide by the hunger, as I had been forced to bear the pain, but at about twelve o'clock I heard some one knocking at the door.

"It was of no use to call out 'Come in,' because the door was locked, but I shouted, 'Please listen; I am fast in bed and cannot get up to let you in.' A voice, I knew whose it was, said back again, 'I am listening. Tell me how I can help you.' It was one of the ladies that conducted the class. She was not very strong, so did not go by the train, though she saw it start, and she had heard some of the neighbours wondering what had become of old Ann Crompton, for most of them knew how I had looked forward to my summer outing.

"The lady could not come my way at once after seeing the merry party off, for she had some shopping to do, and so she took my little place on her road home. I told her that if she would slide the window back she would find the door key on the sill, inside. I always put it there, so that if it happened I was ill my neighbour could find it and let herself in. I had no fear of robbers, and that's one of the advantages of being poor. Folks that have nothing worth stealing need not be afraid of thieves. The lady opened the window, for it slides easy. I take care of that, for it's no use giving needless trouble, and then she unlocked the door and found how I was fixed.

"With her own hands she lit the fire and got my breakfast ready. She gave me water and things to wash with, for I could manage that, and then she sent somebody else to tidy up and see to me until my next neighbour came home. Well, to cut a long story short, it is just wonderful to think how everything was managed for me. That lady had never called at my place before, and yet she was sent just when I was in the greatest need of help. When she could stay no longer, she took care that somebody else came. Before she left, she said to me, You know, Ann, that when any of our members are prevented from joining in the trip because of illness, we try to add to their comfort at home. So I will leave the price of your ticket with you. The money will not be lost, for we only pay for those who actually go.' She took the ticket and gave me half-a-crown at once, so there was I provided for and feeling quite rich directly. Now, wasn't that wonderful, ma'am? And yet it hardly seems right to call it so, because we ought to be looking for God's help in our time of need, if we really believe in Him."

Mrs. Powell's face showed the interest she felt in Ann's story. Its expression was entirely changed. The fretful, irritable look and manner were gone, and in place of them were words of sympathy, and the remark, "I wish you had sent to me, Ann. I would have come to see you and given you further help."

"I'm sure you would, ma'am; but the real truth is that all I wanted came without my asking anybody but my Father in heaven. The members of the class were very kind. First one, then another, would drop in and tidy up for me, and not a neighbour had a bit of anything nice for dinner but a portion would be sent for me. The lady that keeps the corner shop actually sent a wing of fowl and a slice of bacon one day. Another brought a drop of broth; then came some nice floury potatoes, and a sup of milk, and after that a morsel of cow-heel."

"What! all in one day?" asked Mrs. Powell, looking very much amused.

"Bless you, no, ma'am. One at once, and that was the wonderful part. These kind neighbours said nothing to each other, but day by day, just as I was getting to the end of my store, came something fresh from another hand. So I never wanted, and I never felt anxious. It would have been a shame if I had. I ought to tell you that, being able to use my hands, I kept on with my knitting and mending as well as I could, and was able to earn a trifle every day. By degrees I got to sit up, with my foot on the stool, but that was not very comfortable, because I got stiff; so a lady, the one that called first, lent me a proper rest,' and that was very nice. Now I can go about again, and I feel as if I couldn't be thankful enough to God for all His goodness, and to the friends He sent me for theirs. When I look back I think I was a bit like the widow that Elijah went to. She had only enough for one cake at the time they met, yet the barrel of meal did not waste through all the season of famine, and she and her son, and the visitor sent from God, never wanted bread. So I, though I never knew what hand would bring the next, finished the food that came on one day, and slept without fear that I should be left to hunger for more before a supply was sent. Now, ma'am, I have told you this long tale, and I'm afraid it has been very selfish of me taking up so much of your time when you have matters of your own to think of. But, if you believe me, it was the thought of all these mercies that filled my mind, so that it seemed as if I must tell you how good God has been to me, and how faithfully He keeps His word to the poorest old body that puts her trust in Him. I could not tell about Him and my kind neighbours without bringing in myself."

"I am very glad you have told me all this," said Mrs. Powell. "You have done me good. Now I shall ask you just to think over this matter of mine, and see if you can find a servant for me before Elizabeth's month is up. If I should have to give up my summer's outing, I hope I may brave the disappointment as bravely as you have done. You must stay and have a bit of dinner downstairs. Elizabeth you know already, and I should like Sarah to know you."

Ann thanked Mrs. Powell for her invitation, and, having dined with the servants, went home to think how she could help the lady out of her present difficulty.