Left to Ourselves Part 22

"Nay, dear," she answered, rousing herself and putting her hand round him, "let it only draw you closer to Him who will forgive us if we ask."

"I felt I could not look anyone in the face. Ought I to have told them?"

"I hardly know. Oh, Hugh dear, it is not so much the drinking a gla.s.s of beer. I would not wish to condemn anyone for doing that, if it were all open and above board; though of course I have long ago made up my mind about it. But I think where you feel wrong has been that you _felt_ you were doing what father would disapprove, and you had not courage to resist."

"Yes," said Hugh sorrowfully.

"So that is what you want to confess to Him, and ask to have pardoned?"

They were silent, looking into the fire.

"I thought you'd scold me awfully," he said at last.

"Did you?" asked Agnes; "you should go to somebody who has not sinned herself if you want that."

"But you've never been tempted to go and take advantage of your parents'

being away, and do exactly as you knew they'd hate you to do."

"No," answered Agnes, "my temptations may not be the same as yours, and yet I've just as much to be sorry for when I go to my Lord as you have."

"_Just_ as much?" asked Hugh, looking in her face, "do you mean that really, Agnes."

"Yes, I do. I'm thankful every day of my life, that these words are written: "Who forgiveth _all_ thine iniquities."

Hugh put his arms round her.

"Then you forgive me, Agnes?" he asked.

"All my share of it, dear. But----"

"Mother and father?"

"Oh, no, I was not thinking of them! I am sure they will----"

"I know what you mean," said Hugh very softly, "and I'll go to Him."

He left the room without another word, and Agnes had to do the rest of her locking-up alone. Blinded with tears she went to every room, and then ascended to her own chamber.

Alice and Minnie were in bed, and asleep.

She went and stood at the dressing-table, slowly unpinning her rose, when her eye fell upon a Christmas card, which had been given her by Hugh himself that very morning.

"_Jesus_: for He shall save His people from their sins."

She opened her door, crossed the landing, and tapped at Hugh's.

"Look here!" she said, handing it in, and bending to kiss him.

He looked at the words, then up in her face, and there was that in his eyes which made Agnes say:

"Hugh! you've been to Him?"

And Hugh whispered an earnest "Yes."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XV.

_WHERE ONE PUDDING WENT._

Agnes was one of those girls who loved to be a true elder sister. Many a time, when she sat down to tell a story, she would have preferred to bury herself in an interesting book, or to go on with a piece of painting, or delicate needlework; but by experience she had learned the blessedness of giving rather than taking pleasure, and her restless brothers interested for an hour, or Alice's and Minnie's hearts warmed and stirred up by a story, was, in her estimation, something accomplished for her Lord and Master.

So when the day after Christmas-day dawned, and found them all a little out of sorts, with later hours, and more excitement than usual, she took the opportunity to gather them together to hear the account of where the puddings went, and how they were received.

John threw himself into an arm-chair with a yawn, Hugh stretched himself on the sofa with his face downwards, while Alice and Minnie sat on the hearthrug resting their heads against her knee.

Agnes was not offended at her brothers' positions, knowing that their fatigued dulness meant no disrespect to her, and would soon change to interest in her narration when once she began.

"Ahem!" said Hugh.

"Now don't, Hugh, I am going to begin; but I must have time to collect my thoughts."

"I shall be asleep then," he answered. "Agnes, why do you choose such a morning to tell us? we can't do justice to you."

For answer, Agnes only smiled and began.

"'Bother the children, they are in my way from morning to night! Not a bit of peace. And how I'm to do to-morrow I don't know any more than n.o.body!'

"The words were spoken by a woman who looked inexpressibly worried and tired. The room was small, the children were many, the fire was poor, and the cold was severe. As she spoke she pushed one child into one corner, another into another; she hustled a big clumsy boy away from the little fire, and she swept down some poor little playthings off the table on to the floor with a sharp rattle which betokened a breakage of a toy, such as it was.

"A bitter cry from a little pale boy, to whom this small plate had belonged, arrested the mother's attention for a moment, but only to add to her exasperation.

"'Stop yer crying,' she exclaimed, 'or I'll stop yer!' and the little fellow swallowed down his tears as best he might, and wiped the rest on his sleeve, as he bent down to gather his little sticks together, picking up the remains of his one doll's plate, which had enabled him to have imaginary dinners and teas in his play for many a day.

"The children saw that they had better make themselves scarce, and though a keen east wind and sleet raged outside on this Christmas-eve, most of them turned out into the narrow street till tea should be ready.

"When, through the uncurtained window, they could see from their mother's movements that they might venture in, they gladly once more entered the little untidy room.

"Their mother had cut them each two slices of bread and dripping, and to this they sat down with ravenous appet.i.tes. Alas! much too soon were the pieces demolished, and the crumbs picked up off the comfortless bare table.