MONA'S TENTH

It seemed a long time to the children before Mona returned, and their first sight of her was a distinct shock to them.

She came back with a closely-cropped head, and a white face, looking so fragile that Bumps confided to Jack that she thought "Mona must be nearly dying."

But her voice and laugh reassured them.

They wondered when they saw her kiss Miss Falkner.

"Do you like her very much?" asked Jack.

"Very much," said Mona promptly. "She came to me when I wanted her, and it was through her that I got well again!"

"But hadn't you any doctors?"

"Miss Falkner was my doctor."

This sounded puzzling, but Mona astonished them still more by things she said and did. She came into the school-room while the Bible-reading was going on and asked Miss Falkner questions about it, as if she were one of her pupils. She started having family prayers; and then one afternoon Jill found her trespassing again in the vicinity of "Bethel."

"I think I must join your Tenth Society, Jill. Tell me what you do."

Jill's face flushed crimson with delight.

"Will you? Do you mean it really? And will you put your tenth into the red bag?"

Mona appeared to be considering.

"My tenth will be a big affair by the side of yours, Jill. What does the red bag do with your money?"

"I take it to Mr. Errington every fortnight. He keeps the money. It's for Chilton Common, you know. They do want a church there dreadfully."

"I think I must have a little talk with Mr. Errington about it."

"But you will help us to fill our bag, won't you?"

"I dare say I shall."

Mona was looking away through the pines rather dreamily as she spoke. Jill brought her back to the subject in hand.

"And will you join us now? Properly? You will, won't you? And say the vow by our stones like Jacob? Let me just go and tell Jack and Bumps. They would love to hear you."

But Mona caught hold of her as she was flying off.

"No, Jill. Grown-up people have different ways to children. It isn't a game to me, and it means a great deal more than you could imagine. But I like your quaint idea of raising a little Bethel under the pines here, and if you leave me quite alone, I will take the vow in the same place that you did. More you cannot expect from me."

"But somebody ought to hear you," objected Jill. "I am sure it's more proper to have people looking on."

"God will hear me. Did Jacob have people near him?"

Jill was speechless. Then obediently she walked away, and waited for her sister at the entrance to the wood. When Mona joined her there was a soft radiancy about her face that made her look very beautiful.

"Oh, Jill," she said, "a tenth seems such a miserable portion to offer back. How shall I ever pay the debt of all the past wasted years?"

"And when will you divide your money?" asked Jill. "Do let me see you do it. And if it's too difficult, Miss Falkner is very good at sums. She'll do it for you."

"I shall go and see Mr. Errington this afternoon. You must be patient, Jill. All in good time."

The next day the children were walking out in the village with Miss Falkner when they met the vicar.

He beamed when he saw them.

"Have you heard the good news?" he said. "Miss Baron did not bind me to secrecy. Perhaps she has told you herself?"

"I think I know," said Jill, nodding wisely.

"I have written to a builder, an old friend of mine, and asked him to come over at once and talk it out with me. Now the money is forthcoming we shall soon have the mission-room."

"What!" cried Jill. "Have you got enough money to build it?"

"Indeed I have. And we'll have it up in no time."

"I wonder how the people will like it," said Miss Falkner meditatively.

Mr. Errington looked quickly at her.

"A month ago I should have had heart-sinkings on that point. But I assure you it is their chief topic at present when I go over to them. I fancy sometimes they expect it to bring to them more temporal than spiritual food; but it is owing to a visit from these small people that their antagonism has vanished."

"But who—how have you got the money, Mr. Errington?" inquired Jack.

"Ask your sister. She may enlighten you."

"It is Mona's tenth!" exclaimed Jill, capering up and down in delight. "How soon will it be built, Mr. Errington, next week?"

Mr. Errington laughed as he went his way.

"Oh, you young people! So hot and impatient, so quick to resolve and carry out. I wish I could instill some of your spirits into the sluggish natures that I have to deal with!"

The children could do little else but talk of Chilton Common all that day.

"And now," said Jack, "if all the money is got for the church, where is our tenth money to go to?"

"I think it will be some time before everything will be bought," said Miss Falkner. "You must remember there will be lots of things wanted inside the mission-room; seats—hassocks, perhaps—lamps, and all kinds of other articles. Mr. Errington will like to get your money for some time to come, I am sure."

"And there are always the heathen to send it to," said Jill. "They never come to an end, do they, Miss Falkner? You send your money to them always, don't you?"

"Yes," Miss Falkner replied. "I feel more drawn towards them. At home here in England there are so many to teach and help the ignorant ones. Out abroad there are millions still out of reach of help and Christianity."

Jill looked grave.

"And how much money does it take exactly to make a heathen a Christian, Miss Falkner?"

Miss Falkner smiled.

"I can't tell you, Jill. There is the cost of a missionary going out; he or she are the means, with God's help, of converting a heathen. But every little helps."

"Mr. Errington says the Chilton Common people are heathen!"

"Yes, dear, he means they are living without any thought of God."

"But we did that before you came to us. Really and truly, Miss Falkner, we never thought about God at all. And I'm afraid I didn't want to. You see no one had told us about the Golden City. And I didn't know that Jesus loved us so, and would help us, and keep on forgiving us."

Jill's face was earnest and sweet. Her governess stooped and kissed her.

"But you know about it now, dear, and you must try to help others who are still ignorant."

Jill nodded, then ran away to play.

Autumn came, and then winter. Mr. Errington's energy never flagged; and it was a happy day for the children when the foundation-stone was laid for the mission-room on Chilton Common.

Mona was asked to lay it, but for some time she hesitated, and suggested that Jill should do it instead. Jill flatly refused, and Miss Falkner encouraged her in her refusal.

"I do not hold with children being placed in prominent positions," she said to Mona when they were talking the matter over. "Jill is a clever child, and wants to be repressed rather than pushed forward. I am glad to see she has the good sense to be shy of such a ceremony."

"But I am such a beginner," said Mona humbly. "I have never gone in for good works, and lots of my friends—even Miss Webb—think that my illness has left my brain a little weak and queer."

"Your friends could not think laying a foundation-stone queer conduct. And if they do, what does it matter?"

The children were having their talk about it round the school-room fire.

"I shouldn't like to lay a foundation-stone," said Jack. "Fancy, if you put it a little crooked, then the whole place would tumble down! Sam told me so."

"I should love to build it all," said Jill. "Sticking bricks and stones into clay or wet stuff is lovely! But I couldn't do it with a lot of people and clergymen looking on. I hate people staring!"

"Is it the very bottomest thtone of all?" questioned Bumps with big eyes.

"Of course, stupid!" said Jack. "Do you think it would be the top one?"

"I asked Mr. Errington what it was going to be called," said Jill. "He says he doesn't want exactly a church there, because he wants to give them tea and magic lanterns in the winter, so it's a mission-room, and do you know what he says we can call it? The Bethel Mission-room."

Jack and Bumps set up a cheer at once.

"It's called after our stones," went on Jill proudly. "Mr. Errington said it had been built by tenths. And he told me the meaning of Bethel, which I didn't know before."

"What does it mean?"

"The house of God."

There was silence for a minute, then Jack said slowly—

"But our place under the pines isn't that."

"I like to think it is sometimes," said Jill quietly.

The day came at last for the ceremony of laying the foundation-stone. Even Miss Webb, who viewed most of Mona's proceedings now with raised eyebrows, entered into the spirit of it with real heartiness.

When they drove out to the desolate spot all the inhabitants of the Common were there, and Jack and Jill walked amongst them, greeting them as old friends.

Mona performed her part very gracefully.

Mr. Errington had a good many friends present, but none enjoyed it all so much as the children.

"This is only the very beginning of it," Jill confided to a rough specimen of girlhood, who had been making depreciatory remarks, after the service was over. "You wait till your room is built, then you'll see."

"What shall us see? A parson in a pulpit?"

"You'll see the way to the Golden City," Jill said enthusiastically. "And Mr. Errington will be always telling you about it till you all set out and go. And he'll give you teas and magic lanterns. I wish I lived here to see the workmen build it. I should come and watch them every day, and make them hurry."

As they drove home in the carriage with Mona they heard a startling bit of news.

It was Miss Webb who began talking of the room.

"Mr. Errington is quite down at leaving. He told me it is only his wife's health that takes him. He hopes to hurry on the building—but I doubt if it will be finished before the New Year. It is strange that as soon as he gets his desire about this wild bit of his parish that he should have to leave it."

"Is Mr. Errington going away?" asked Jill breathlessly.

Mona looked at her gravely as she answered—

"Yes, I suppose you can all know it now. You can't be as sorry as I am. I was just getting to like him so."

Miss Webb gave a little laugh.

"It wasn't so long ago that you used to vote him a bore, my dear. There are plenty of clergy. We must hope for one as good."

"But," cried Jill, "he can't go away. Who is to take our bag every Saturday? And the room is for him to preach in. Oh, how dreadful of him to go!"

"Lady Crane has the gift of the living, has she not?" said Miss Webb, addressing Mona.

"Yes, I believe so," said Mona listlessly.

"Perhaps she may give it to Cecil Arnold. He is her nephew!"

A rich colour came into Mona's cheeks.

"Oh, no," she said confusedly. "Why should she? Besides, he would never leave his work in the north."

Miss Webb nodded her head knowingly.

"Wait and see, my dear; wait and see!"

It was a great blow to the children, and as soon as lessons were over the next morning Jack and Jill ran off to the Vicarage as hard as they could go.

Mrs. Errington received them; her husband was out.

"We don't know what to do," Jill said breathlessly. "If Mr. Errington goes away, we can't get on at all. Do beg him not to. Why does he go?"

"My dear child, we are both very loth to leave, but circumstances are against us. I have been told by the doctors that I shall never be better here. If we take this other living offered to us, I may be able to help Mr. Errington instead of being a constant source of anxiety to him."

"It's the bag," Jill said; "it's the bag I am thinking of. I can't bring it to a strange clergyman. I hate strangers! It's too bad of you!"

Jill actually began to cry.

"You see," explained Jack, "some people laugh at us. Now Mr. Errington never did. He understood from the very beginning. Mona used to laugh, but she doesn't now. Miss Webb always does. She told Jill she was a Mrs. Judas, for she kept the bag. Mona scolded her. And Sir Henry Talbot always teases us. He asks if we have taken up any more trespassers. They think themselves very funny, but we don't think them funny, we hate them when they talk so."

"I am sure no clergyman would laugh at you," said Mrs. Errington gently. "We will tell our successor all about you, and he will be only too glad to help you in every way he can."

"But what will you tell him about us?" asked Jill, drying her eyes. "You won't tell him of our scrapes, will you? Say that we always mean to be good, it's just accidents happening when we aren't. And tell him he has just to take the money and use it for God, and ask no questions. Because, when the room is built our money will still be going on. We shall never stop, you know. We're not like Sam's father. He says his cabbages are done, and he can't grow any more in the winter. But I know he has got some turnips, and I'm going to talk to him about them. Oh, I do wish you weren't going away!"

It was the general wish in the village, and there was great concern amongst all Mr. Errington's parishioners. His church was never so full as during the two months before his departure, and as Bumps pathetically remarked—

"There'll be no one like him in church ever again. There never are twos of anybody, except twins, and Mr. Errington isn't a twin."