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But instantly came the thought of Maly, and drowned the other thought in bitterness. Then he felt how worthless place is, when those who made it dear are gone. Father and mother are home not the house we were born in! They were soon upon the farm where once he had abundance of labour, abundance to eat, and abundance of lowly friendship. Nimrod was making for his old stable.
I will do all I can, but I am only brother Clare, and you will want, want, want mother and father, mother and father, and they will be always coming, and never be come, not for ever so long! Don't grow a big girl, Maly!" The mother could not think what to say. She went in, and, in the hope of turning his thoughts aside, took the baby, and made haste to consult her husband.
They went into the first room they came to. Such a bedroom! larger and grander than any at the parsonage! "Oh baby! baby!" cried Clare, "now you'll live won't you?" He seemed to have his own Maly an infant again in his arms. The thought that the place was not his, and that he might get into trouble by being there, never came to him. Use was not theft!
"This is little Maly, ma'am," he said, offering her the child. "Set her down, and let me see her," she answered. Clare obeyed. Mary put her finger in her mouth, and began to cry. She did not like the look of the black aunt, and was not used to a harsh voice. "Tut! tut!" said the black aunt. "Crying already! That will never do! Show me her things." Sarah felt stunned. This was worse than death!
Clare, like most of my readers, had not yet learned to trust God for everything. But he was true to Maly. Miserable over her backsliding, he said to himself that evil counsellors were more to blame than she. "Did she know me at all?" he pondered; "or has she forgot me altogether?" He began to doubt whether the girl was really Maly, or one very like her.
But now and then some tender-hearted woman, oftener one of ripe years, struck with his look its endurance, perhaps, or its weariness mingled with hope would perceive the necessity of the boy, and offer him the food he did not ask nor like him the less that, never doubting what came to one was for both, he gave the first share of it to Abdiel. Maly.
He was thereupon comforted with the hope that he had not in reality seen Maly, but had imagined the whole affair. How was it possible, though, that he should imagine such horrible things of his little sister? On the other hand, was it not more possible for a fainting brain to imagine such a misery, than for the live child to behave in such a fashion?
Halliwell, and Maly, and Sarah, and his own baby, and Tommy and poor Pummy, and would, if Glum Gunn beat him, help him to bear the blows, and not mind them very much. He ended with something like this: "God, I can't do anything for anybody! I wish I could! You can get near them, God: please do something good to every one of them because I can't.
He was very tired, very dusty, had eaten nothing that day, had begun to despair of work, and was wishing himself clear of the houses that he might throw himself down. But something in the look of the child made him quicken his weary step as he followed her. He overtook her, passed her, and saw her face. Heavens! it was Maly, grown wonderfully bigger! He turned and caught her up in his arms.
There was Maly! he could do nothing for her nothing to make her father and mother glad for her up in the dome of the angels! Was it possible that he really could do nothing? Then came the thought that people used to say prayers in the days when he went with his mother to church. He had been taught to say prayers himself, but had begun to forget them when there was no bed to kneel beside.
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