Part 17 (2/2)

Lucy's eyes and smile repaid him for that unusual grace, and then turning to his wife, she said,--

”There, you naughty soul. Mary loves you; Bob and d.i.c.k love you; your husband loves you, and yet you dare to look me in the face and tell me you're not wanted!” And, kissing her cheek, ”Jesus loves you, and I love you, and if you call the cat it will jump upon your knee and tell you the same thing. Yet you 'feel a sinking and a fainting,' and you 'sit waiting and thinking that every moment is going to be the last!'

Mrs. Morris, I'm”----”

But by this time the work was done. The poor woman's face was all aglow.

”Yes, yes,” said she. ”I am richer than I thought.”

”Richer! I should think you are; and you have all the love of G.o.d, all the promises of the Bible, and all the hopes of heaven into the bargain. Mrs. Morris, I'm going to sing, and if you don't join in the chorus I won't stop and have a cup of tea.”

Lucy's singing was an inspiration, and Piggy Morris stopped the process of unlacing his boots to look and listen, as she sang,--

THE DARK AND THE DAWN.

”Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”--_Ps_. x.x.x, 5.

To-night there are tears, To-night there are fears, To-night there is sighing and sorrow, My tears shall be dried, My fears shall subside, 'Twill be singing--not sighing--to-morrow!

So this is my song, As I travel along!

Come neighbours, and join in my chorus!

The tears of the night, Become pearls in the light, The light of the morning before us.

To-night I may sigh; But pray tell me why, From the future more tears I should borrow?

No! strengthened by hope, With my cares I will cope, For they all will evanish to-morrow!

So this is my song, &c.

Though hard I may toil, And wearily moil, And with tears cast my seed in the furrow; Not long shall I weep; I am certain to reap A harvest of joy on the morrow!

So this is my song, &c.

I care not a jot For the crook in my lot, Though I grieve a few moments in sorrow; They soon will be past, And the ”First and the Last”

Will send me deliv'rance to-morrow.

So this is my song, &c.

Even now, as I weep, I see the dawn peep Through the shadowing curtains of sorrow!

Hope widens the rift-- Even now do they lift, And the rosy dawn smiles a ”Good morrow!”

So this is my song, As I travel along-- Come neighbours and join in my chorus?

Be sure by-and-bye We shall reign in the sky, When the glory gates open before us!

You might go far before you found a brighter atmosphere than that which filled the house of Piggy Morris, and all owing to the presence of that concentrated piece of suns.h.i.+ne, Lucy Blyth. After tea d.i.c.k came in, and received such a warmth of greeting from her that he almost lost his balance, and blushed like a peony, as hobbledehoys will under such circ.u.mstances.

”Why, Mrs. Morris,” said Lucy, ”here's that troublesome fellow here again. He was here last night, and on Monday night, and on Sunday, too. Look here, young man; what do you come here so often for?”

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