mr. vale was waiting for the children, holding the study door wide open to light them up the stairway.
“come right in,” he said; “i am proud to have my first visit from my little moorlow friends;” then turning to the sexton, he added, “we may be here for some time, ole, and if you wait for us, it will make you late for your supper, so bring me the keys of the church when you are ready to go, and i'll take them home with me to-night.”
ole, looking grateful for this thoughtful suggestion, trudged downstairs again, and the children walked into the room. regie had been there several times before, but even to him it never looked so cosy as to-night. there was a bright fire on the hearth; ole had been watching and stirring it up, for mr. vale had told him he expected to entertain some little folks after service. a cheery lamp was lit on the study table, as by this time it was quite dark out of doors, and near it some loving member of the congregation had placed a vase, full of beautiful roses. on one side of the room were tall book-cases, reaching to the ceiling, and on the other three sides hung quaint old-fashioned portraits of some of the former rectors of the parish.
as soon as nan heard mr. vale tell ole that they would probably be there for some time, she quietly walked over to one corner, took off her hat and cloak, and carefully and smoothly laid them across a chair.
“why, nan child, who asked you to take off your things?” exclaimed harry.
“mr. vale said we were to stay some time,” nan replied, not at all disturbed; “and i think it seems cosier to take off your things.”
“i quite agree with you,” said mr. vale, heartily; “and these young gentlemen cannot do better than to follow your example, for we are going to draw up to the fire and have a good talk.”
so harry and regie, nothing loath, slipped out of their overcoats, and the little party gathered about the fire, the boys seated on either side of mr. vale's easy chair and nan on his knee.
“well, what did you think of the service?” he asked, taking nan's little hand in his. “i know you could not have enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed looking into the upturned faces of my little moorlow friends. it seemed as though you sort of belonged to my congregation, and ought to be there always.
“i wish we could,” sighed nan, shaking her head thoughtfully. “i knew all the time you must be a lovely preacher, and really i think you are the nicest minister there is.”
“why, so does everybody with any sense that ever heard him”' said regie, and in a tone as though there could not be the slightest doubt on that question.
“oh, rex! you are a good friend of mine,” laughed mr. vale, affectionately, laying his hand over on regie's knee.
“you love children, don't you, mr. vale?” remarked harry, demurely, as though he had just made the discovery.
“yes, indeed, harry, and i hardly see how the old world could get along for a single day without them.”
“i suppose you love 'em all alike, all the little children you know?” nan said, rather regretfully.
“do you think i ought to, nan?”
“no, i guess not. i would like it better if you didn't; if you loved some of your little friends more than others.”
“why, what difference would it make to you?”
nan hung her head and looked a little embarrassed.
“i think i know what she means,” harry said, slowly, who, by a glance toward mr. vale, had asked permission to turn the back log, and was at work with the tongs; “i think she means that she'd like to feel sure she was one of those you loved the most. nan's kind of jealous sometimes.”
“well, i'm only jealous about nice things, any way, harry murray,” and nan sat bolt upright again; “i do not wish i had other boys' tops and marbles the way you do.”
harry was on the point of framing a quick retort, but he checked himself. he really was trying to be less of a tease, as far as nan was concerned. mr. vale was the only one who noticed this little act of self-control.
“good for you, harry!” he exclaimed, “keep that sort of thing up, and i have no fears for the sort of man you'll make.”
“keep what sort of thing up?”
regie and nan looked at each other rather mystified, and nan was very uncomfortable; besides, she did not enjoy the novel sensation of having had the last word, and she did wish mr. vale had not heard her speak that way to harry. she wondered if he thought she was a regular little heathen.
“keep what sort of thing up, mr. vale?” asked regie, after a pause.
“why, self-control, rex. you see that remark of nan's about tops and marbles made harry feel like speaking back pretty sharply: so much like it that i fairly saw the words shaping themselves on his lips, but you did not hear them spoken, did you, nan?”
“no,” nan confessed.
but if you had looked harry's way just then you would have seen a queer little smile instead, which seemed to say, “why, nan's such a dear little thing i ought not to mind what she says.”
“well, that's just exactly what i was thinking,” said harry, astonished at mr. vale's power to read his thoughts.
“it was not very nice for me to tell that about the tops and marbles,” nan remarked, slowly. .
“and it was not nice at all,” said harry, “for me to say that you were jealous sometimes.”
“but i am,” nan truthfully admitted; “i know that well enough, only i do not like to be told about it.”
“of course you don't, nan,” and mr. vale drew the honest little, maiden nearer to him. “of course you don't, few of us like to be told of our faults; but we ought to like it, for often it would be the very best thing that could happen to us. perhaps we should not go on making the same errors over and over again if somebody would tell us about them, and we could take the telling kindly.”
“mr. vale,” said rex, who had been sitting thoughtful and silent for some time, “were you just a regular little boy?”
“very irregular sometimes, i fear, only i don't quite know what you mean, rex.”
“why, you see, i would like to be like you when i grow up; but i'm afraid i'm too different at the start. i mean did you use to be like other boys and me? did you often get angry and speak back?”
“yes, often; and in the sense that you mean i was indeed a regular boy; and do you think i never get angry now, rex?”
“perhaps you do now and then, but not often, i warrant, and when you do you keep it under.”
“keeping under is very hard work,” sighed nan, as though she had a world of experience in that direction.
“keeping under is only another name for self-control, you know. and now, nan,” added mr. vale, “i am ready to answer your question, and to tell you that i do not love all the children i know alike by any manner of means. i love them in a dozen different ways. you see no thoughtful man grows to be as old as i am without wondering, whenever he looks into a little face, what sort of man or woman its owner will make. and so if i can i watch the little life closely, and after a while i see good traits and bad traits cropping out here and there, all in the veriest tangle; and by-and-bye, when i see the good traits growing faster and faster, i love that little life very hopefully and joyfully. then suppose in another little life i see the evil things choking the good things, i love that little life very sadly and fearfully; or if i cannot make out which is getting the upper hand, i love it very anxiously; and so you see i do not love my little friends alike by any means. now there you have had two sermons, one in the church, and one here in the study, and that is enough for one afternoon. suppose you go to my table drawer, nan, and see what you find.”
nan quickly slipped from his knee and pulled out the drawer.
“three little boxes,” she exclaimed, with delight.
“and what is written on them?”
how could she tell, this lazy little learner, who only lately had mastered plain printed' letters? with a shy, half-apologetic look she placed them in mr. vale's hand.
“regie, harry, nan,” he read, handing each a box. of course it was a present. with beaming faces they unwrapped them, and in each lay a square-edged, plain gold ring, with four old english c's engraved on the outside.
“one for each of us?” cried nan, not knowing what else to say.
“of course,” said mr. vale; “i didn't see how i could make one ring do for three people, or i would, you know, for the sake of economy.”
“and what are the c's for?”
“to help your growing up,” mr. vale replied, and nan looked a little mystified.
“of course they stand for something,” remarked harry.
“certainly, and for what do you think?”
“i shouldn't wonder if they stood for control every time,” said regie, with their recent conversation fresh in his mind.
“not a bad idea,” answered mr. vale, “and we'll let them stand for that altogether; but separately they are intended to stand for these four words, charitable, cheerful, courteous, consistent. those are pretty big words for nan, but i should not wonder if she understands them after a fashion.”
“yes,” said nan, with much dignity, for with the exception of the last word, consistent, they all did convey to her a more or less definite meaning.
“i would like you to look up the exact definition of the words in the dictionary,” added mr. vale, “and then i believe when you happen to look down on the four c's you will remember what they stand for, and that they will help you to build up the finest sort of a character. now i propose that we do not tell anybody what those four c's stand for, keeping it for a little secret among ourselves.”
“i would like just to tell sister julia,” said nan, “but, oh, dear me! i forgot i shall never see her again, perhaps.”
“why, of course you'll see her again,” answered regie; “don't you know that you and harry are going to make me a visit every winter, and that i am coming to moorlow for a while every summer? why, i love every foot of the beach and the bluff from your house to the life-saving station.”
“but, mr. vale, regie can tell sister julia, can't he?” asked nan; “she would love to know about them.”
“yes; and i think he might tell papa and mamma fairfax, and harry and nan, papa and mamma murray; but besides those five people i think it would be better not to tell anybody.”
“so do i,” said regie, warmly; “if you told about them, other fellows might think you were setting yourself up to be sort of extra good, and they wouldn't understand.”
“exactly,” mr. vale answered, “and so you see it will be wiser to keep the matter to ourselves, only i shall expect you to candidly report to me, once in a while, if you really are remembering to give those four adjectives a large place in your life.”
“it was very, very kind of you to think of these pretty rings for a new year present,” said nan, after a pause.
“and we're very much obliged, mr. vale,” chimed in harry and regie; but the children's glowing faces showed deeper and more earnest thanks than could find their way into spoken words. mr. vale glanced toward the clock.
“i am afraid we must think about going,” he said, “or they may think i have smothered you here in my study, like the poor little princes in the tower.”
“i wish we could stop in the church a moment and have a look at that organ,” suggested harry; “i never saw one that was run by water-power.”
“we will then,” answered mr. vale, “only hurry into your overcoats so that we shall not lose any time.”
in a minute the little folk were ready, and each of the three gold rings was under cover of a warm silk mitten.
it was quite dark in the church, so that they took hold of hands as they did that morning on the beach, and mr. vale led the way down the aisle to the choir-loft at the rear. when they reached the vestibule he went ahead and lit three or four burners, and the children followed him into a little room underneath the organ. part of the machinery was here, and in a quick, clear manner, mr. vale explained its workings; then they went up into the choir itself to see the wonderful keyboard and pedals.
“couldn't you play just one tune?” nan asked, so beseechingly that mr. vale could not refuse the last request that he should probably hear for many a day from her little lips, so he whipped off his gloves and sat down on the high bench.
mr. vale loved nothing better than to play on that grand sweet organ, and to-night with those rapt little faces looking up to his he seemed fairly inspired. without break or pause he glided from one sweet, solemn air to another, till suddenly realizing how late it was he began to play the german evening hymn, the one that regie had sung at the thanksgiving dinner at moorlow. regie took the hint, and straightway the sweet words rang out in his earnest, boyish voice, and so clearly, you could have heard each syllable in the farthest, darkest corner of the church. when he came to the verse—
“let my near and dear ones be
ever near and dear to thee;
oh, bring me and all i love
to thy happy home above,”
he sang it with even a more intense earnestness, so that one could easily guess his thoughts.
surely harry and nan were among regie's “dear ones,” and since they might not always be near to him, he threw his soul into the prayer, that they might always be near and dear to the heavenly father.
another moment and the church was utterly dark again, there was the sound of the closing of a heavy door and the turning of a ponderous key in its lock; then all was still. out in the wintry twilight four friends were walking homeward side by side, home through the frosty air; walking briskly, and yet with hearts a little heavy, for three happy months were at an end, and a little king and a faithful body-guard must part company on the morrow.
