  I IT was with a sad look upon her wrinkled old face and a heavy weight tugging at her heart, that Grandma Frink unlocked the door of her little cottage one September morning. There came over her the feeling that perhaps she would not go in and out that door many more times. She had heard bad news that morning; the basket of clothes which she brought from the Kingsleys was the last she would have to “do up” for them. They had been her best customers, and now they were all going to Europe for two years at least. Two other families for whom she had worked had already gone away, and with the winter approaching what was the poor lone woman to do! The little cottage was her own; it had been free from debt until two years before the expenses of her husband’s long illness had used up their little savings; and when at length he died, the poor woman was obliged to mortgage her home to pay the doctor’s bill and funeral expenses. Thus far she had been able to keep up the interest, but now work had grown scarce, and pay-day was near at hand, but she had not a cent with which to meet it! Many tears fell into the suds that day, and more fell upon the dainty ruffles which she fluted for the last time. It was while she was putting the finishing touches to Minnie Kingsley’s ruffled and tucked and lace-trimmed dress, that Satie Howe came in, and seeing the tears soon had the whole sad story. And that was the way the “Industry Band” got hold of Grandma Frink’s trouble. With the same energy with which they set about buying a cow for Mrs. Peters, two years before, they now set about lifting another burden from off shoulders too weak to bear it. “You see,” said Satie, telling it to the band, “her heart was just full yesterday, and she told it all out to me. I do not believe anyone would have got it out of her at any other time. It seems that she has a small annuity, which, with the work she can do, makes her very comfortable; but this interest money comes hard, especially as she has less work this summer than usual. Now I thought that if we could pay the interest, perhaps she would get on, and another year she may get more work.” “That would be a good thing to do,” said Lou Brandt, “but it would be better if we could pay the mortgage, then there would be no interest.” “Pay the mortgage!” exclaimed two or three at once in tones which indicated that they thought Lou had taken leave of her wits. “Why not? It is only seventy-five dollars, and it is a great pity if twenty-five boys and girls cannot raise that amount! Satie told me about the trouble, last night, and when father came home I asked him about it and he said that the interest would not help matters, for the mortgage will be due this fall, and Major Grimes means to foreclose if it is not paid up. Granny has lived in that little house forty years; if she were turned out now, she would not know what to do. She has not a relative in the world.” “Let’s do it! We can get the money, somehow, I know!” said one of the boys. “I suppose Major Grimes thinks he will get the cottage into his own hands, for little or nothing, but we will show him the Industry Band mean business!” “If we cannot raise the money in two months I am sure we can find somebody who will advance it and hold the mortgage as security until we can pay it,” said Lou. “O Lou! what a business head you have on your shoulders!” said John Baker. “Well, let’s proceed directly to business, and see if there are not others with equally good heads. We will meet Thursday afternoon at four o’clock and bring in our pledges. We can each think it over between now and then and decide how much we can give right out of our own pocket money.” To this plan all agreed; then they separated. Annie Williams was the youngest member of the band. She had not much money of her own, and this plan which Lou proposed, presented serious difficulties to the child. Just a few days before, she had spent her last penny, and she did not know how she was to get any money to give toward this fund. That night she added to her evening prayer this petition: “Dear Jesus, if thou would’st have me do something to help poor Mrs. Frink out of her trouble, wilt thou show me the way? If I can earn any money, please tell me where the work is for me to do.” Then she went to bed, content to leave it all with Jesus. When they met according to appointment on Thursday afternoon, Lou who was treasurer of the band was ready with book and pencil to put down the names and pledges. Tom Mason was there, money in hand. “I can give three dollars; I sold some ducks yesterday, and father gave me a dollar for doing the meanest job on the farm.” “What is that?” asked one of the boys. “As if you didn’t know that there is nothing a boy hates like picking up stones all day!” Another could give a dollar and fifty cents, another, two dollars; and the girls, when were they ever behind in giving? Laura Kline had concluded to wear her last year’s hat, and give what a new one would cost. Nell Blake had agreed to wash the breakfast dishes for a month, so that her mother could do more of the family sewing, and the money saved was to be hers, to give to the fund. Lou Brandt said, “Well, I think I have taken the hardest job of you all; I have agreed not to use a single slang phrase for a whole year, and I am to have five dollars a month! I will give the money for the first two months towards paying off the mortgage, and if we do not raise it all in that time perhaps I will give another month’s pay.” “But suppose you fail?” said Satie Howe. “I think you will have to give security.” “Agreed!” said Lou laughingly, and as she spoke she took off her heavy gold bracelets which had been her last birthday present, and laid them beside Tom’s three dollars. They all laughed and Satie said, “Well, Lou, I guess we can trust you to redeem those!” When Annie Williams’ name was called she said, “I do not know how much I can give. I am sure to have something, but I have not found out yet how much He wants me to give.” “Who wants you to give?” asked Lou. “Why, Jesus; I asked him, but he has not told me yet.” The girls were hushed and awed; how many of them had thought to ask Jesus about it! Lou laid down her pencil and her voice trembled with emotion as she said, “Girls, boys, we have made a mistake! We have begun wrong! Let us pray about this too!” Dropping upon her knees, while the others followed her example, Lou’s voice led them in a prayer for God’s direction in this matter which they had been considering, and for his blessing upon all their efforts as well. “That was what they call ‘a new departure,’” said Tom Mason. Another boy remarked, “It is queer that with so many of us belonging to the church, we should have band meetings without an opening and closing prayer! but that little mouse stirred us up, so that I reckon we shall do better after this.” Annie Williams came to the next meeting with a bright face; when her name was called she walked over to the treasurer and laid down a bit of paper which read after the usual form of bank checks: “Pay to the order of Annie Williams five dollars;” and was signed “John Williams.” “Papa showed me how to write on the back—‘endorse it,’ he called it,” and turning the paper over she brought to view, “Pay to the order of Louise Brandt. Annie Williams.” And she added, “Papa said if you took that to any bank they would give you the money, only you would have to put your name under mine.” “What business women we are getting to be!” said Tom Mason. “Do you want to hear about it?” asked Annie when the laugh at Tom’s remark subsided. “Of course we do!” said Lou. “You know I staid a long time out at uncle John’s last spring; one day uncle brought in a little lamb and said ‘See here, Annie, if you will save this lamb’s life you may have it. The poor thing’s mother will not own it, and unless you feed it it will die.’ Aunt Mary showed me how to feed it, and it grew; and before I came away it was a big lamb. I used to feed it with a spoon out of a bowl, and I grew real fond of it. The other day uncle John wrote to me that he was going to sell all his flock, and that he was sorry, but he thought he must sell my lamb too. He is going to Florida next winter, and there would be no one at the farm who could take care of it, so he sent me five dollars! You can’t think how glad I was; I knew right away that Jesus had answered my prayer.” I cannot describe all the ways by which the money came in, but you will not be surprised when I tell you that when the money on the mortgage came due, the “Industry Band” were ready to become the purchasers, and that Grandma Frink was made the happiest woman in the village of Danvers. Faye Huntington. dividing line |
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