Part 7 (1/2)

”It is a book to help us find all those verses in the Bible you have been asking me about. You see I'm not as good and wise as your friend Mrs. Howell, and don't know as much about the Bible as she does.”

”You're every bit as good,” declared Marty, who by this time had got both arms around her mother's waist as she stood on the rug, and was looking up in her face lovingly, ”and you will be as wise when you are as old, for she is a great deal older than you.”

Her father and mother both laughed at Marty's earnestness, and Mr.

Ashford said,

”That's right, Marty. Stand up for your mother.”

They found the concordance very useful, and from time to time spent many happy hours searching the Scriptures with its aid, comparing pa.s.sages and talking them over. Not only did they find texts for the band, but other subjects were traced through the sacred pages. Occasionally Marty saw her mother busy with the concordance and Bible when she had not asked her a.s.sistance about verses.

It was while Marty was giving wholes instead of tenths and the red box was so well filled, that it met with an accident that disfigured it for life. Though the occurrence was a sad and humiliating one for Marty, it led to good results.

She had the box out one day and was counting the money, although she knew precisely how much there was. As a good deal of it was in pennies it made quite a noise, so that Freddie, attracted by the bright outside and noisy inside, thought he would like to have the box to play with. He asked Marty to give it to him, but she, busy with her counting, answered rather sharply,

”No, indeed; you can't have it. Go away, now. Don't touch!”

But Freddie was very quick in his movements, and before she could get it out of his reach he had seized it and shaken the contents all over the floor. Marty, very angry at having her beautiful box treated so roughly, and seeing the money rolling about in all directions, cried in loud tones,

”Let go, you naughty boy! You'll break it!”

Freddie, now angry also, and determined to have what he wanted, held on manfully, screaming, ”Dive it to me! dive it to me!” and in the struggle a small piece was broken off the lid.

Mrs. Ashford, hearing the loud tones, hurried into the room, and arrived in time to see Marty strike Freddie with one hand while she held the box high above her head with the other. Freddie was pounding her with all his little strength and crying uproariously.

”Marty, Marty!” called Mrs. Ashford, ”don't strike your little brother.

What is the matter? Come here, Freddie.”

But Freddie stamped his foot and screamed, ”Will have it! Will have pretty box!” and Marty wailed, ”Oh! he's broken my lovely box and spilled all my money.”

It was some time before peace was fully restored, though Marty was soon very repentant for what she had done and Freddie's ill-temper never lasted very long. After standing a while with his face to the wall, as was his custom on such occasions, crying loudly, the little tempest was all over. He turned around, and putting up his hands to wipe his eyes said pitifully,

”My teeks are so wet, and I have no hamit.i.tch to dry them.”

”Come here and I'll dry them,” said his mother, taking him on her knee.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Ashford, hearing the loud tones, hurried into the room. Page 58]

”My chin is all wet,” he said.

”So it is, but we'll dry all your face.”

”And my hands are all wet.”

”What a poor little wet boy!” said his mother tenderly, but cheerfully too.

After making him comfortable she said,

”Now are you sorry you were such a naughty boy?”