CORRIE

BY

RUTH LYNN

AUTHOR OF

"CITY SPARROWS," "THE MYSTERIOUS LOCKET," ETC.

LONDON:

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

4 BOUVERIE STREET AND 65 ST. PAUL'S CHURCHYARD, E.C.4

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. WHY THE BELLS SANG

II. A WALK IN THE WOOD

III. A RAINBOW IN THE NURSERY

IV. FATHER CHRISTMAS

V. THE GARDENER'S LESSON

VI. A TEMPTING BAIT

VII. THE BROKEN VASE

VIII. THE BIRTHDAY QUEEN

IX. CAUGHT!

X. SET FREE!

XI. FOREST LODGE

XII. CONCLUSION

CORRIE

CHAPTER I

WHY THE BELLS SANG

TIRRA-ling-a-ting-ding-dong!—Sang the bells, and the stars sparkled in the sky. The silver moonlight shone down softly on the streets of the city, making the weathercock on the blackened steeple glitter like gold, and throwing a tender radiance on the resting-places of the dead beneath. Silently the light stole along the street like the touch of an angel's wing, while the footsteps that sounded sharply on the smooth pavement told that rest comes late to many of earth's toiling ones in the busy town.

The bright patches on walls and roof still crept on, till the light shone straight down into one of the windows, as if moon and stars had an especial errand in there. And so they had; for there was no candle, and the small fire, though burning clear and red, did not flame, so the moonbeams came in and did duty for both.

They lighted up Corrie's bright curls as she lay quietly hugged in Robin's arms, and showed him the smiles on her pretty pale face as he talked to her in a low tone.

"Hark! Corrie! Do you hear the bells?"

"Pretty bells," whispered Corrie; "why do they ring to-night?"

"Because Christmas is coming, Corrie, and the ringers want to practise so that the bells may sing prettily on Christmas morning."

"Do they sing words, Robin?"

"Yes, I think so, Corrie, but it is not everybody that hears them; they are telling about Jesus Christ and the angels. You might think they would get tired of saying it over and over again; but you know, every year there are more little babies born who have never heard about it before; and so they will always sing."

"What is the story, Robin?"

"Why, it begins about when the dear Lord Jesus lived up in heaven with His Father and the angels. Look! Corrie! At the twinkling stars, how they shine! That is only a little peep of the glory and beauty of the happy home above the bright blue sky."

"Shall we go to that home some day, Robin? You and I and mother?"

"Yes, darling little sister, we shall, for Jesus has promised to take us there; and He always does what He says."

As the boy whispered this, a rush of hot tears came into his eyes, for he could not help thinking that the time might not be so very far off for Corrie, his poor little ailing sister, who had never known how to use her small feet: they did not seem to belong to her at all. For, alas! both legs were quite paralysed and helpless. All day long she had to sit motionless in her chair, or make feeble efforts to creep about on the floor. Robin knew he could never see her playing with other children of her own age among the daisied meadows out beyond the smoky town.

When she was a baby-child, he used to carry her out of doors for long distances, to let her breathe the pure country air. But at last the weight became too much for even his patient loving strength. And now, although she was four years old, there was no improvement in the state of her health. The doctor had told mother yesterday she would be a cripple all her life. This was why the boy's tears fell on Corrie's silky hair to-night; but he brushed them away, and went on with the story as the child nestled closer in his embrace—

"The holy angels live up there," he continued, "and we shall see them all some day; and you will never cry any more, Corrie, when you get there, because Jesus is going to take away everybody's pain."

Corrie gave a sigh of relief.

"Please go on," she pleaded.

"I heard a great deal about it from teacher last Sunday," continued Robin; "she said she was going to tell us a Christmas story, that we might think about it on Christmas Eve; so I listened to every word, that I might be able to tell you."

A transient smile flitted across the face made wan and small through suffering, and one white thin hand was raised to stroke Robin's cheek.

He kissed it, and went on—

"She told us first about the shepherds. They were the men who took care of the sheep and lambs, you know. And in that far country where they lived, there were wild beasts—wolves and foxes—who used to prowl about at night round the fold; so the shepherds lighted fires to frighten them away. No harm could happen while they kept guard. Who is the Good Shepherd, who always takes care of us?"

"Jesus," murmured the child.

"Yes, Corrie; and He is the best of all, because He never sleeps, but is always looking at the little ones who love Him and try to please Him. Well, these good men sat talking together that Christmas time so long ago, when all of a sudden a very bright light shone round them—a light brighter than the brightest sunshine; they could not look at it, it was so dazzling. It was a peep at glory—glory, Corrie, that you sing about in the hymn."

"What did the shepherds say, Robin?" asked Corrie, with an earnest look in her dark eyes.

"They did not say anything, for they were dreadfully frightened; but while they were wondering where the beautiful light came from, a holy angel began speaking to them; and what do you think he said?"

"What?" said Corrie, with parted eager lips.

"Teacher gave us the words to learn; so I can tell you exactly without looking in the Bible. The angel said, 'Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour which is Christ the Lord.' That night, little sister, while they had been watching the sheep, a baby had been born in a stable where the cows were feeding. The grand people would not let them come into the inn; there was no room there; so the King of Glory was laid in a common stable, with the oxen feeding round Him."

"Did they go to find Him, Robin?"

"Yes, they went at once; and when they saw the baby, they knew they were looking at the promised Saviour, whom they had read about and expected. He had come into the world to save poor sinners by washing them white in His precious blood; and they longed to tell everybody the good news. That is why we may be glad too, because we love Him as the shepherds did; and we know He loves us. We can sing—

"'I am so glad that Jesus loves me.'"

"Yes, I do love Him," said Corrie, stretching out her arms. "I do, very very much. I wish He would take me home to live in heaven now; I want to see His face."

"So you will some day, darling," answered Robin, clasping her tighter. "But you know we can be His servants here on earth; He has got work for each of us to do."

"Work for me, Robin! Oh, what is it? What can I do for the dear Lord Jesus?"

"You can try to bear your bad pain patiently, dear little sister, for His sake, and not be cross and fretful, to worry poor mother when she is busy. The best work of all is, I think, to see how happy you can be, because then you make everybody else happy. Oh, this will be the brightest Christmas we have ever had! We have got so many things to make us glad, Corrie."

Yet, looking into that dismal room with its scanty furniture, how few would have said that! True, everything was clean, from the boarded floor to the cracked cups and saucers neatly arranged on a shelf. But poor Robin knew well there was only just enough to make both ends meet, as his mother said. And it was indeed a hard struggle to the poor widow, ever toiling, never resting from Monday morning to Saturday night. But the peace of God was in that dwelling; and where that light shines, it can never be all dark.

"There is mother!" cried Robin, rising gently, to lay Corrie in the sort of sofa he had made for her by tying two old chairs together and placing cushions on them.

"Oh, mother! Why did you carry that heavy basket? I could have fetched it in the truck."

The poor woman set down her load on the floor with a sigh of relief, and sank down on the nearest chair. Yet her white face had a smile for her two children, as the boy, having lighted a candle, put his arm round her neck.

"I shall be better presently, after a cup of tea. Good Robin, to have the kettle boiling! I am so tired! You will have to go out to Oaklands, my son, the first thing to-morrow morning. The family has returned, and Jonathan spoke for me, and got the washing promised; so that will be a good bit for us this winter, as there are some children."

"All right, mother; I'll be off as early as you please. Why, it will be Christmas Eve! What shall we do to keep Christmas this year?"

"I don't know, my boy. We must be content with such things as we have, and make the best of them. The Lord never forgets us."

"Mother, the grand rich people do something on Christmas Eve to keep it, don't they?"

"Oh yes; when I lived at Oaklands long ago, as nurse, we had fine doings there. There was always a Christmas tree, and all sorts of games and fun; but that is only for rich people, Robin."

"Yes, I suppose so, mother; but how I wish Corrie could see something like that; I should like her to have a Christmas tree of her own. And why not?" he added, at seeing his mother shake her head.

He ran off to do a household errand in an adjoining street. "I must think of something to make this Christmas a very happy one for poor little Corrie, because she has so few things to make her glad!"

And Robin gave sundry leaps in the air as scheme after scheme presented itself, for he felt quite sure he could manage something for her.

Corrie! It was always Corrie in Robin's heart; and if he could only succeed now and then in letting bright glints of sunshine into that little shaded life, there was not a happier boy in the town. Ah! Yes, because he possessed the secret of true happiness, which consists in finding no time to think about self. Only those know this secret who, by the Holy Spirit, have been led to give their hearts to Jesus. He then teaches them to be like Him, when He walked about as the tender gentle Healer and Helper on this sorrow-laden earth. Robin prayed to Him every day to teach him to do His will; and Jesus will help you too, my readers, if you ask Him.

CHAPTER II

A WALK IN THE WOOD

CORRIE was breathing softly in a sound sleep long before Robin followed her into dreamland. He had so much to think about: first, it was mother sitting there so patiently beside the dimly-burning candle, stitching on another patch to the jacket he had just taken off. Dear mother! What a sad patient look sat on her peaceful face! That look had never gone away since the night strange feet were heard on the threshold, and husky voices told the tale, the mournful tale, of the hungry sea: "All hands gone down—a total wreck!"

"'God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,'" was heard above the agony of that night of weeping. "'Therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea. Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved! God shall help her, and that right early.'" (Ps. xlvi.).

Robin always called it father's psalm after that, and often used to repeat part of it to himself and Corrie; for mother had told him there was "no more sea" now for father! He had sailed away to the river of life—"the river that makes glad the city of God, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb," where neither storm nor tempest can ever come.

Robin was thinking about the golden city to-night; and its brightness seemed to come down to him as he lay planning his happy schemes. "The angels sang about 'goodwill towards men,'" thought he; "so I know Jesus means us to be very glad." And his thoughts drifted on till he dreamed a happy dream.

His one sound sleep came to an end earlier than usual, for he had gone to bed with the determination to be up and stirring betimes. Robin, like other busy happy people, found there was nothing like the prospect of having plenty to do, to arouse the desire for a long day and put sloth and idleness to shame.

The boy rose softly so as not to disturb mother and Corrie in the next room, and peeped out in the cold dim dawn of that December day.

"I must be sharp," he said, hastily dressing himself, "or I shall not catch old Jonathan. Oh, dear! I forgot to bring in the sticks last night to dry, and they're ever so wet in the yard. Mother must find a good fire this cold morning."

Robin did not forget to kneel down and speak to God, to ask His help and guidance before beginning his duties for the day. If he had not done this, he would not have got on at all, for the provoking sticks hissed and refused to light until his patience had been sorely tried for a very long time. However, all was at length finished, and the newly-filled kettle set on the stove. Then Robin fetched his truck from the outhouse, and, having placed the large empty flasket upon it, started off.

He had two miles to go beyond the town before he could reach the large old-fashioned house called Oaklands, that stood within its high shrubberies and well-kept grounds. The sun's face was rosy red, as if he was quite ashamed of getting up so late; but as the clouds and mists dispersed, bright golden rays came shooting down between the bare branches that stood up straight and tall above the hedges, making the more lowly leaves and grasses glitter with a bright diamond tracery.

Robin enjoyed the crackling noise his feet made as he stepped into one iced pool after another, or trod on the firmly-edged ruts of that roughly-kept country road. When the robins sang, he whistled, and the blackbirds and thrushes did not mind hopping quite close to him as he trudged along so cheerily to the rattle of his one-wheeled barrow. Through the belt of firs that skirted the grounds of Oaklands, Robin could see blue smoke rising from the gardener's cottage.

"I'll leave my truck here, inside the gate," thought he, "and run across the short way to the kitchen garden; he's safe to be there." And Robin, with freed hands, at a single bound cleared the little stream that fed the large pond, and in a few minutes entered the high-walled garden by a low door.

Yes, there was old Jonathan at his work, as he expected. Now, old Jonathan was a well-known character for many miles round. There was not a child in the hamlet hard by that would not look up in his face with a smile as he patted its head, or took the little one on his knee. Those mysterious pockets of his seemed to have a never-ending supply of halfpennies and farthings, sweeties and nuts, or maybe a ripe apple now and then. Age had lined his face with many a wrinkle, and his back was a trifle bent; but he could still handle a spade with a vigorous will, and knew what it was to do a hard day's work as well as a younger man.

You had only to look into his honest eyes to know he could be a good friend, a friend for cloud as well as for sunshine, as many a one could testify who had felt the comforting grip of his horny hand in a time of trouble. The old gardener had seen several changes at Oaklands since the death of his old master and friend sixteen years ago; but he still held on to the place, the successors being only too glad to secure the services of such a trustworthy servant.

Robin's mother had lived in the house in former days as nurse to the children, who now had grown up and gone out into life. She was therefore an old friend of Jonathan, and her son could reckon upon the kind old man now as always, for he was in the habit of helping him in various ways, and was his beloved friend and counsellor in every emergency.

"Good-morning, Mr. Jonathan," said Robin, running quickly across the garden to where the gardener was pulling up something from one of the beds.

Jonathan did not hear him at first, for he was a little deaf, so the salutation was repeated, when the stooping figure raised itself, and the kind hearty face met Robin's eager look with a friendly smile.

"Well, you are early enough, youngster, anyway," said he. "What sort of a worm are you up to catch this fine morning? A bit of horse-radish is about all I've got to give you to-day, and I hope you'll have a good piece of beef to need the flavour. How is your mother?"

"Not very well, thank you; she feels the cold on her chest most days; but she wanted me to thank you for speaking about the washing up at the house. I've got the basket here now to fetch the clothes."

"All right, my boy, and welcome, though 'tis nothing to thank about. I would always do your mother a good turn if I could. Before you go up with the flasket, just lend me a hand, will you? I want to dig up one of those trees in the copse yonder."

Robin gave a hearty assent, and as they stepped together across the crisp ground and out to the open field beyond the garden wall, he ventured to ask—

"Mr. Jonathan, what are you going to do with the tree?"

"Why, 'tis for the young ones at the house; there are children there, you know, and they are preparing for some grand doings to-night: a Christmas tree to hang the pretty things upon, and neighbours coming from all round with their little ones to see it."

"Oh," said Robin, "that is what mother told us about; they used to have it long ago when she was in service there; it must be grand, Mr. Jonathan. I wish our little Corrie could see it; but she can never never come so far, even to peep in at the window. The doctor says she will never walk."

"Poor little lass!" answered Jonathan sadly. "But do not fret about it, my boy; the Lord will make it up to her somehow; if not in this life, when He takes her above. I must try to get her a pretty Christmas posy. She always smiles when she sees flowers. Never fear, she shall have a happy Christmas, if old Jonathan can do his part towards it."

"I knew you would help me if you could," cried Robin gleefully, as his companion pointed to a well-grown young fir tree, and proceeded to dig about its roots.

"There! Steady, my boy! We shall have it up as clean and clear as sixpence. Stay! Before we carry it up to the house, I must chop off one or two of the lower branches; that will make it a better shape."

"Mr. Jonathan," asked Robin wistfully, "may I have this one?" And taking up one of the freshly-cut fir boughs, he held it out to view. "If I may have this," he continued, "and you will give me a pot and some earth to stick it into, I will take it home to Corrie and make a Christmas tree for her."

"Have it, my boy, and welcome; and what should you say to a pen'orth of sweets to hang on it, if I can find a copper? Now run and fetch your barrow and the flasket; we'll go up to the house together. Fine-grown trees," he added, pausing to point proudly to the wood, whose boundaries he and Robin were skirting. "Different sorts there, and many a lesson to be learned from them."

"Lessons from the trees, Mr. Jonathan?"

"Yes, my boy; they are always teaching something new to me, and explaining God's Holy Word in a wonderful way. We must live and grow like those trees if we want to be worth anything. Our good minister told us last Sunday that the man who is not in Christ is like the grass that grows up to be cut down at last with the scythe. It is only those who are planted in Christ that can grow up into trees of righteousness, and bear fruit to the praise and glory of His name."

"I never thought of that before," said Robin.