Little Fishers: and Their Nets

  CHAPTER XX.

  THE WAY MADE PLAIN.

  IT was a beautiful Sabbath afternoon; just warm enough to make peoplefeel still and pleasant. The soft summer sunshine lay smiling on allthe world, and the soft summer breeze rustled the leaves of the trees,and stole gently in at open windows. In the front room of the Deckers,the family was gathered, all save Mr. Decker. He could be heard in hisbedroom stepping about occasionally, and great was his wife's fearlest he was preparing to go down town and put himself in the place oftemptation at his old lounging place. Sunday could not be said to be aday of rest to Mrs. Decker. It had been the day of her greatest trials,so far. Norm was in his clean shirt and collar, which had been done upagain by Nettie's careful hands and which shone beautifully. He wasalso in his shirt sleeves; that the mother was glad to see; _he_ wasnot going out just yet, anyway. Mrs. Decker had honored the day with aclean calico dress, and had shyly and with an almost shamefaced air,pinned into it a little cambric ruffle which Nettie had presented her,with the remark that it was just like the one Mrs. Burt wore, and thatJerry said she looked like Mrs. Burt a little, only he thought she wasthe best-looking of the two. Mrs. Decker had laughed, and then sighed;and said it made dreadful little difference to her how she looked. Butthe sigh meant that the days were not so very far distant when Mr.Decker used to tell her she was a handsome woman; and she used to smileover it, and call him a foolish man without any taste; but neverthelessused to like it very much, and make herself look as well as she couldfor his sake.

  She hadn't done it lately, but whose fault was that, she should like toknow? However, she pinned the ruffle in, and whether Mr. Decker noticedit or not, she certainly looked wonderfully better. Norm noticed it,but of course he would not have said so for the world. Nettie in herblue and white gingham which had been washed and ironed since theflower party, and which had faded a little and shrunken a little,still looked neat and trim, and had the little girls one on eitherside of her, telling them a story in low tones; not so low but thatthe words floated over to the window where Norm was pretending not tolisten: "And so," said the voice, "Daniel let himself be put into a denof dreadful fierce lions, rather than give up praying."

  "Did they frow him in?" this question from little Sate, horror in everyletter of the words.

  "Yes, they did; and shut the door tight."

  "I wouldn't have been," said fierce Susie; "I would have bitten, andscratched and kicked just awful!"

  "Why didn't Daniel shut up the window just as _tight_, and not letanybody know it when he said his prayers?"

  Oh little Sate! how many older and wiser ones than you have tried toslip around conscience corners in some such way.

  "I don't know all the reasons," said Nettie, after a thoughtful pause,"but I suppose one was, because he wouldn't act in a way to make peoplebelieve he had given up praying. He wanted to show them that he meantto pray, whether they forbade it or not."

  "Go on," said Susie, sharply, "I want to know how he felt when thelions bit him."

  "They didn't bite him; God wouldn't let them touch him. They croucheddown and kept as _still_, all night; and in the morning when the kingcame to look, there was Daniel, safe!"

  "Oh my!" said Sate, drawing a long, quivering sigh of relief; "wasn'tthat just splendid!"

  "How do you know it is true?" said skeptical Susie, looking as thoughshe was prepared not to believe anything.

  "I know it because God said it, Susie; he put it in the Bible."

  "I didn't ever hear him say it," said Susie with a frown. A laughfrom Norm at that moment gave Nettie her first knowledge of him as alistener. Her cheeks grew red, and she would have liked to slip awayinto a more quiet corner but Sate was in haste to hear just what theking said, and what Daniel said, and all about it, and the story wenton steadily, Daniel's character for true bravery shining out all themore strongly, perhaps, because Nettie suspected herself of being acoward, and not liking Norm to laugh at her Bible stories. As for Norm,he knew he was a coward; he knew he had done in his life dozens ofthings to make his mother cry; not because he was so anxious to dothem, nor because he feared a den of lions if he refused, but simplybecause some of the fellows would laugh at him if he did.

  That Sabbath day had been a memorable one to the Decker family in somerespects; at least to part of it. Nettie had taken the little girlswith her to Sabbath-school, and then to church. Mrs. Smith had givenher a cordial invitation to sit in their seat, but it was not a verylarge seat, and when Job and his wife, and Sarah Ann and Jerry were allthere, as they were apt to be, there was just room for Nettie withoutthe little girls; so she went with them to the seat directly under thechoir gallery where very few sat. It was comfortable enough; she couldsee the minister distinctly, and though she had to stretch out her neckto see the choir, she could hear their sweet voices; and surely thatwas enough. All went smoothly until the sermon was concluded. Sate satquite still, and if she did not listen to the sermon, listened to herown thoughts and troubled no one.

  But when the anthem began, Sate roused herself. That wonderful voicewhich seemed to fill every corner of the church! She knew the voice;it belonged to her dear teacher. She stretched out her little neck, andcould catch a glimpse of her, standing alone, the rest of the choirsitting back, out of sight. And what was that she was saying, over andover? "Come unto Me, unto Me, unto Me"--the words were repeated in thesoftest of cadences--"all ye who are weary and heavy laden and I willgive you rest." Sate did not understand those words, certainly herlittle feet were not weary, but there was a sweetness about the word"rest" as it floated out on the still air, which made her seem to wantto go, she knew not whither. Then came the refrain: "Come unto Me, untoMe," swelling and rolling until it filled all the aisles, and dyingaway at last in the tenderest of pleading sounds. Sate's heart beatfast, and the color came and went on her baby face in a way which wouldhave startled Nettie had she not been too intent on her own exquisitedelight in the music, to remember the motionless little girl at herleft.

  "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of Me, learn of Me," called the sweetvoice, and Sate, understanding the last of it felt that she wanted tolearn, and of that One above all others. "For I am meek and lowlyof heart"--she did not know what the words meant, but she was drawn,drawn. Then, listening, breathless, half resolved, came again thatwondrous pleading, "Come unto Me, unto Me, unto Me." Softly the littlefeet slid down to the carpeted floor, softly they stepped on the greenand gray mosses which gave back no sound; softly they moved down theaisle as though they carried a spirit with them, and when Nettie,hearing no sound, yet turned suddenly as people will, to look after hercharge, little Sate was gone! Where? Nettie did not know, could notconjecture. No sight of her in the aisle, not under the seat, not inthe great church anywhere. The door was open into the hall, and poorlittle tired Sate must have slipped away into the sunshine outside.Well, no harm could come to her there; she would surely wait for them,or, failing in that, the road home was direct enough, and nothing totrouble her; but how strange in little Sate to do it! If it had beenSusie, resolute, independent Susie always sufficient to herself and alittle more ready to do as she pleased than any other way! But Susiesat up prim and dignified on Nettie's right; not very conscious of themusic, and willing enough to have the service over, but consciousthat she had on her new shoes, and a white dress, and a white bonnet,and looked very well indeed. Meantime, little Sate was not out in thesunshine. She had not thought of sunshine; she had been called; it wasnot possible for her sweet little heart to get away from the feelingthat some one was calling her, and that she wanted to go. What betterwas there to do than follow the voice? So she followed it, out into thehall, up the gallery stairs, still softly--the new shoes made no soundon the carpet--through the door which stood ajar, quite to the singer'sside, there slipped this quiet little woman who had left her whitebonnet by Nettie, and stood with her golden head rippling with thesunlight which fell upon it. There was a rustle in the choir gallery,a soft stir over the church, the sort of sound which people mak
e whenthey are moved by some deep feeling which they hardly understand; therewas a smile on some faces, but it was the kind of smile which might begiven to a baby angel if it had strayed away from heaven to look atsomething bright down here. The tenor singer would have drawn away thesmall form from the soloist, but she put forth a protecting handand circled the child, and sang on, her voice taking sweeter tone, ifpossible, and dying away in such tenderness as made the smiles on somefaces turn to tears, and made the echo linger with them of that lasttremulous "Come unto Me."

  LITTLE SATE IN THE CHOIR GALLERY.]

  But little Sate, when she reached the choir gallery, saw somethingwhich startled her out of her sweet resolute calm. Away on the side, upthere, where few people were, sat her own father; and rolling down hischeeks were tears. Sate had never seen her father cry before. What wasthe matter? Had she been naughty, and was it making him feel bad? Shestole a startled glance at the face of her teacher, whose arm was stillaround her and had drawn her toward the seat into which she dropped,when the song was over. No, _her_ face was quiet and sweet; notgrieved, as Sate was sure it would be, if she had been naughty. Neitherdid the people look cross at her; many of them had bowed their heads inprayer, but some were sitting erect, looking at her and smiling; surelyshe had made no noise. Why should her father cry? She looked at him; hehad shaded his face with his hand. Was he crying still? Little Satethought it over, all in a moment of time, then suddenly she slippedaway from the encircling arm, moved softly across the interveningspace, into the side gallery, and was at her father's side, with hersmall hand on his sleeve. He stooped and took her in his arms, and thetears were still in his eyes; but he kissed her, and _kissed_ her, aslittle Sate had never been kissed before; she nestled in his arms andfelt safe and comforted.

  The prayer was over, the benediction given, and the worshipers moveddown the aisles. Sate rode comfortably in her father's arms, downstairs, out into the hall, outside, in the sunshine, waiting for Nettieand for her white sunbonnet. Presently Nettie came, hurried, flushed,despite her judgment, anxious as to where the bonnetless little girlcould have vanished. "Why, Sate," she began, but the rest of thesentence died in astonished silence on her lips, for Sate held herfather's hand and looked content.

  They walked home together, the father and his youngest baby, sayingnothing, for Sate was one of those wise-eyed little children whohave spells of sweet silence come over them, and Nettie, with Susie,walked behind, the elder sister speculating: "Where did little Satefind father? Did he pick her up on the street somewhere, and would hebe angry, and not let Nettie take her to church any more? Or did he,passing, spy her in the churchyard and come in for her?"

  Nettie did not know, and Sate did not tell; principally because shedid not understand that there was anything to tell. So while thepeople in their homes talked and laughed about the small white waifwho had slipped into the choir, the people in this home were entirelysilent about it, and the mother did not know that anything strangehad happened. It is true, Susie began to inquire reprovingly, but washushed by Nettie's warning whisper; certainly Nettie was gaining awonderful control over the self-sufficient Susie. The child respectedher almost enough to follow her lead unquestioningly, which was a greatdeal for Susie to do.

  So they sat together that sweet Sabbath afternoon, Nettie telling herBible stories, and wondering how she should plan. What did Norm intendto do a little later in the day? What was there she could do to keephim from lounging down street? Why was her father staying so long inthe choked-up bedroom? What was the matter with her father these days,and how long was anything going to last? Why did she feel, someway,as though she stood on the very edge of something which startled andalmost frightened her? Was it because she was afraid her father wouldnot let her take Sate and Susie to church any more?

  With all these thoughts floating through her mind, it was ratherhard to keep herself closely confined to Daniel and his experiences.Suddenly the bedroom door opened and her father came out. Everybodyglanced up, though perhaps nobody could have told why. There wasa peculiar look on his face. Mrs. Decker noticed it and did notunderstand it, and felt her heart beat in great thuds against the backof her chair. Little Sate noticed it, and went over to him and slippedher hand inside his. He sat down in the state chair which Nettie andher mother had both contrived to have left vacant, and took Sate in hisarms. This of itself was unusual, but after that, there was silence,Sate nestling safely in the protective arms and seeming satisfied withall the world. Nettie felt her face flush, and her bosom heave as ifthe tears were coming, but she could not have told why she wantedto cry Norm seemed oppressed with the stillness, and broke it bywhistling softly; also he had a small stick and was whittling; it wasthe only thing he could think of to do just now. It was too early to goout; the boys would not be through with their boarding-house dinnersyet. Suddenly Mr. Decker broke in on the almost silence. "Hannah,"he said, then he cleared his voice, and was still again, "and youchildren," he added, after a moment, "I've got something to tell youif I knew how. Something that I guess you will be glad to hear. I'veturned over a new leaf at last. I've turned it, off and on, in my minda good many times lately, though I don't know as any of you knew it.I've been thinking about this thing, well, as soon as Nannie there camehome, at least; but I haven't understood it very well, and I s'poseI don't now; but I understand it enough to have made up my mind; andthat's more than half the battle. The long and short of it is, I havegiven myself to the Lord, or he has got hold of me, somehow; it isn'tmuch of a gift, that's a fact, but the queer thing about it is, heseems to think it worth taking. I told him last night that if he wouldshow a poor stick like me how to do it, why, I'd do my part withoutfail; and this morning he not only showed the way plain enough, but hesent my little girl to help me along."

  The father's voice broke then, and a tear trembled in his eye. Sate hadheld her little head erect and looked steadily at him as soon as hebegan to talk, wonder and interest, and some sort of still excitementin her face as she listened. At his first pause she broke forth:

  "Did He mean you, papa, when He said 'Come unto Me'? Was He callingyou, all the time? and did you tell Him you would?"

  "Yes," he said, bending and kissing the earnest face, "He meant me, andHe's been calling me loud, this good while; but I never got startedtill to-day. Now I'm going along with Him the rest of the way."

  "I'm so glad," said little Sate, nestling contentedly back, "I'm soglad, papa; I'm going too."