It was a lovely afternoon in May, a week after the children’s arrival at Brook Farm.  They were together in the orchard, which was a mass of pink and white bloom.  Bobby and Billy were having a see-saw on a low apple branch; Douglas was perched on a higher bough of a cherry tree, and the little girls were lying on the ground.  Tongues were busy, as usual.

‘We’ve seen everything round the house,’ Douglas was asserting in rather a dictatorial tone; ’and now we must be busy having adventures — people always do in the country.’

‘What kind?’ asked Molly meekly.

‘They get tossed by bulls, or lost in the woods, or drowned in ponds,’ Douglas went on thoughtfully.

‘I’m not going to do any of those.’

And Betty’s tone was very determined.

‘What are you going to do, then?’

‘I shall be busy all by myself.  I’m going out to look for some one.’

‘Who?’ asked Molly curiously.

’Some one Mr. Roper told me about.  He sent his love to her and a kiss.  It’s a secret between me and Mr. Roper, I shan’t tell you any more.’

And Betty rolled over in the grass with a delighted chuckle at the puzzled faces round her.

‘It’s only one of her make-ups,’ Douglas said, recovering his composure.  ’Let me tell you of my plans.  Do you see those thick trees at the top of that hill?  That’s a real wood.  Now, if nurse sends us out tomorrow afternoon while she takes a nap, I’m going there, and you girls must come after me.’

‘And us, too,’ put in Bobby, listening attentively.

‘If you can walk so far, and don’t go telling nurse about it.’

‘How far is it?  Six miles?’ asked Molly, who would have been willing to walk ten, had her brother so ordained.

‘It is only through three fields, Sam told me.’

Sam was one of the carters, who had already become one of Douglas’s greatest friends.

‘He be the pluckiest, knowingest little chap that ever oi see wi’ such a baby face!’ was the carter’s opinion of him.

‘If it’s a very nice wood perhaps I’ll come,’ said Betty.

’You must save something from dinner to take with us, for we will have a feast when we get there.’

This sounded delightful, and all spent the rest of the day in busy confabulation as to how they could get there without being stopped by any one, and what provisions they must take.

But, alas! when the next day came, nurse announced her intention of taking Douglas and Molly with her to tea with a friend, a little distance off, and so the visit to the wood was postponed.

Betty pleaded to be allowed to go with them, but nurse refused.

’I can’t have more than two; and I’m taking them more to keep them out of mischief than anything.  Mrs. Giles is going to look after the little ones, so you must amuse yourself.’

Betty felt rather disconsolate after they had gone.  She wandered into the farm kitchen, where Mrs. Giles, a good-natured, smiling woman, was busy making bread.  The twins were in a corner playing with some kittens.  Betty stood at the table watching.  At last she looked up a little shyly and said, —

‘Mrs. Giles, do you know a very nice governess that lives here?’

’A guviness, bless your little heart.  There’s Miss Tyler in the village, two mile off — but I don’t think much of her.  She’s too giddy and smart, and the way she carries on with Dan Somers is the talk of the place!  Are you after having lessons then?’

‘Oh no, no, no!’ cried Betty eagerly, ’that’s why I don’t talk about it to any one; but I should like to see her, for I have a message to give her.  I don’t think it can be Miss Tyler; Mother Nestor — I forget the name, but something like Nestor or Nasher — Mr. Roper called her.  She’s old and young together, and very pretty.’

Mrs. Giles laughed.  ’Old and young together!  I know of nought like that; when we gets old, youth don’t stick to us.  Do you think I answer to that description, Miss Betty?’

‘I should say you were very old,’ observed Betty reflectively, ’not a bit young; but I think your red cheeks are very pretty.’

Mrs. Giles laughed again, and Betty left the kitchen saying, ’I’ll go out of doors and look for her; perhaps she’ll be coming along the road.’

Into the bright sunshine she went, across a clover field, and out at a gate into the white, dusty road.  She trotted along, picking flowers by the wayside, and peeping over hedges to look at the tiny lambs or young foals and heifers sporting on the green grass.  Everything was new and delightful to her; the birds singing, the budding trees, the bright blue sky, and sweet fresh air, all was filling her little heart with content and happiness.  Wandering on, she kept no reckoning of time or distance, until she came to a church in the midst of green elms, and rooks keeping up a perpetual chatteration on the topmost branches of the trees.

Betty was a little afraid of rooks; they were so big and strong and black that she feared they would peck her legs; but she was very tired and warm, and as the church-gate was open she thought she would venture into the cool shade of the elms inside.  Her little steps took her to the church porch, and finding the door partly open, with a child’s curiosity, she pushed her way in, there to stand with admiring awe in the cool, quiet atmosphere.  It was a pretty old church, with stained glass windows; and the sun streaming through sent flashing rays of red and blue, golden and purple, across the old stone walls and oaken seats.

Betty felt she was in another world at once, and the very novelty and strangeness of her surroundings had a great charm for her.  Slowly she made her way round the church, looking at every tablet and monument, and trying in vain to decipher the writing upon them.  But one amongst them brought her to a standstill:  it was the figure of a little girl sculptured in white marble, lying in a recumbent position; her hands were crossed on her breast, with a lily placed between them, her eyes were closed, and her hair curled over her brow and round her shoulders in the most natural way.  Just above her was a stained glass window — a beautiful representation of the Saviour taking the children in His arms and blessing them.  Below the window was written in plain black letters, —

IN LOVING MEMORY OF VIOLET RUSSELL

Aged six years.

‘Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not.’

Betty drew a deep breath; her thoughts were busy.  She wished herself that little girl lying so calm and beautiful, with the red and golden rays slanting across her; and then looking up at the window, she wished still more that she was one of those happy children in the Lord’s arms.

Looking up with tearful eyes, she clasped her hands, and let her buttercups and bluebells fall to the ground unheeded.

‘O God, I will be good!  I will be good!’

Those were all the words uttered, but He who heard them looked down into the overflowing heart, and knew all that lay behind them.

Long the child stood there, and then with flagging footsteps made her way down the aisle.

‘I’m very tired,’ she murmured to herself; ’I’ll just sit down inside that pew.’

And a moment after, curling herself up on the cushions, Betty went fast asleep.

She was dreaming soon of a wonderful white-robed throng; she saw the little girl walk up with her white, still face to a golden throne, she tried to follow, but could not manage to walk, and then the most wonderful music began to sound; louder and clearer it came, until with a start she opened her eyes and discovered where she was.  Was it all a dream?  The music was still sounding in her ears, and sitting up she peered over the edge of the high pew.  There, seated at the organ, was a lady, and she was pouring forth such a flood of melody and song that it did indeed seem to the half-wakened child music straight from heaven.

Betty listened breathlessly to the words — words that she knew now so well, and that were ever in her thoughts:  ’These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.’

It was a beautiful anthem, and a beautiful voice that was singing.  Betty had never heard such singing before.  She gazed with open mouth and eyes; the lady was rather a young one, she noticed, and when her voice rose in triumph and the organ pealed out in accompaniment, Betty saw that her uplifted eyes, shining as they were with such a glad light behind them, were full of tears.

‘It’s an angel,’ she whispered to herself.  And when at last the notes died away, and there was stillness in the church, when she saw the lady’s face bowed in her hands, as if in prayer, Betty stole softly out of the building, and retraced her steps along the road, sobbing as she went.  It had been too much for her excitable little brain; she always had been passionately fond of music, but was more accustomed to the street organs in London than to any other sort, and this was as great a contrast to those as heaven is to earth.

It was a long way back, but Betty did not feel it.  Had God sent an angel to sing to her?  Was there a chance of her ever being amongst that white-robed throng?  If she could only go through tribulation!  Had the little girl lying so white and still gone through it?  These and other similar puzzling thoughts came crowding through her brain.

She was very quiet when she reached the farm.  They were just sitting down to tea when she came in, and Mrs. Giles looked relieved when she saw her.

‘We was wonderin’ where you had got to,’ she said.  ’Ain’t you tired?  You look quite beat.’

‘I’ve had a lovely afternoon,’ was the child’s answer, and the blue eyes shone up at her questioner; but not a word more could be got from her, though the little boys did their best to extract more information.

The next day was a wet one, but the little Stuarts were never at a loss for occupation, and when they were packed off into a large empty garret for the whole afternoon their delight was unbounded.

At last, tired out, their spirits began to flag, and after having exhausted all their stock of games they flung themselves down on the ground to rest.

‘I’ll tell you a story,’ said Betty suddenly.

‘All right, go on!’

Betty sat up in a corner, and rested her back against the wall.  She clasped her small hands in front of her, and gazing dreamily up at an old beam across the room, on which hung many a cobweb, she began, —

‘It was a beautiful day in heaven — ’

‘It’s always a beautiful day there,’ put in Douglas critically.

’I never said it wasn’t.  You’re not to interrupt me.  It was a beautiful day, the harps were playing and the angels singing, and one angel looked as if she wanted something.  So God asked her what was the matter.

’"Oh, please,” she said, “I want to go down to earth to-day.”

’"What do you want to do there, O angel?”

’"I want to play and sing to some children there.”

’Then God said she might go.  So she flew down and changed her clothes — ’

‘What kind of clothes did she put on?’ asked Molly eagerly.

Betty considered a moment ’She put on a straw hat and a grey dress; she took off her wings and folded them up.’

‘Where did she put them?’ demanded Douglas.

‘Down a well,’ was the prompt reply.  ’It was a dry well, and she put her white dress and crown with it; she did them up in a paper parcel, and wrote her name on.’

‘What was her name?’ asked Bobby.

Betty knitted her brows.  ’It was a Bible name, of course; I think it was Miriam.  She felt the earth was very hot, for the sun was shining like anything, and then she wondered who she could sing to.  Well, she walked along a road, and then she saw a church, so she thought that must be a good place, and she went inside.  The church was dark, and cool, and still, but it was lovely; and there were red and blue and yellow and green and violet sunbeams, and beautiful painted windows, and white marble figures all about, and it was so still that you felt you must hush and walk on tiptoe.  And then, what do you think she saw?’

All eyes were on Betty now, as she sank her voice to an impressive whisper.

‘She saw a little girl fast asleep!’

‘Go on,’ said Douglas impatiently, as Betty made another pause.

’So the angel thought she would sing to her; so she went up very softly to the big organ, and began to play it, and then she began to sing.  It was lovely.  She sang like she did in heaven, and the little girl woke up and listened.’

‘What did she sing about?’ asked Molly.

’She sang about heaven, and all the people and children who had come through great tribulation.  And the music went on right up to the top of the church, and her voice got louder and louder, and then softer and softer to a whisper, and then the music got softer too, and then — it was quite still.’

‘Well, go on.  What did the little girl do?’

‘The little girl came away; she — she cried a little.’

‘Why, you’re crying too!  What a silly!’

Betty dashed her small hand across her eyes, and threw up her head defiantly.  ‘That’s all my story,’ she said.

‘Oh, what a stupid story!  You must make a proper ending.’

‘You shall go on! we’ll make you!’

‘Did the angel get her proper clothes again?’

‘Yes,’ said Betty, with a little sigh; ’she put them on and went up to heaven.  And God asked her what she’d done.  And she told Him she thought the little girl would like to come to heaven, if He would let her.’

There was a little break in Betty’s voice; she slid down from her corner, and rolled over on the floor, her face hidden from the others.  Then in a second she called out, ‘I see a mouse!  Let us catch him!’

The children were on their feet directly, and a regular scramble ensued, Betty the most boisterous of them all.  And when nurse came in a little later, she found the little story-teller in the act of crawling across the oaken beam in the centre of the room, to the intense delight of those watching her below.

Nurse caught her breath at the daring feat, but waited till she had accomplished it in safety, then caught her in her arms, and taking her off, gave her a good whipping, and Betty’s spirits totally subsided for the rest of the evening.