CHAPTER III.

THE FIRST SCHOLARS

Grace Campbell hurried home with not less eagerness than her future scholar, to tell the news of her expedition at Kirklands. Her Aunt Hume was only half awakened from her afternoon nap, and glanced with dropsy eyes at the glowing face, as she listened to her niece's description of how and where she had found Geordie.

"Baxter! I do not remember that name; I must ask Mr. Graham who they are, and all about them, nest time he comes," said Miss Hume, after Grace had finished her eager narration, and stood twirling her hat in her hand, hesitating whether she should tell her aunt Geordie's impression of what sort of people the "Kirklands folk" were; but just at that moment tea was brought, and on reflection, Grace resolved that, for the present, it would be wise to keep silent on that point. Two days pa.s.sed quickly, and Sunday afternoon found Grace hovering about the door of the little room which her aunt had given to her for her cla.s.s.

She had been seated in state at a table which Margery had placed for her, at what the old nurse considered a suitable angle of distance from the form arranged for the scholars; but Grace began to think it felt rather formidable to be waiting seated there, so she gathered up the books again, and wandered between the avenue and the little room, waiting with impatience the arrival of her first scholars, and having a vague fear lest they might not be forthcoming after all.

Meanwhile, Geordie and his little sister were toiling along the dusty highway in an excited, expectant state of mind. The shady elm avenue was a refreshing change after the hot white turnpike road. Geordie looked keenly about him, noting all the well-kept walks and shrubberies, among which he saw many plants that were not natives of the valley, and thought he should like, sometime, to examine them more closely.

At last they came in sight of the grey gables of the old mansion, and little Jean grasped her brother's hand more closely, and looked up with a frightened glance at the many windows, which seemed to her like so many great eyes all staring at her. She began to wish that she was safe back in her granny's cottage again, but consoled herself by thinking that as long as she had hold of Geordie's hand nothing very dreadful could possibly happen. Geordie, too, was somewhat overawed by the nearer view of the "big hoose," which certainly seemed much more formidable in its dimensions than it did from the moorland, where he used to get a glimpse of it while he watched the sheep, and then it looked no larger than the grey cairn which he made his watch-tower, but now it seemed to frown above him, and the windows, too, began to create uncomfortable sensations in his mind as well as Jean's.

With the sight of his friend of the stepping-stones, his flagging courage returned, for had he not conversed with her on his own domain, and been invited by her to pay this visit?

"This is Jean," he said, immediately looking up at Grace with his frank smile, as he gave his sister a little push forward.

"I have kept my tryst, ye see. You thought, maybe, I wouldna mind," he added, smiling again at the absurdity of the idea that he should forget such an eventful engagement. "I am so very glad to see you, Geordie, and Jean, too. I must say I was a little afraid that you might forget to come," added Grace, quite in a flutter of delight over the arrival of her scholars, which they little dreamt of. Then she happened to glance at Jean, who stood clutching her brother's corduroys in a very frightened att.i.tude, and Grace remembered that this was also a new experience for the scholars, and perhaps they, too, might be suffering from the nervousness which had been following her from the lawn to the cla.s.s-room for the last hour as she waited for them.

Putting out her hand to Jean, she said, in an encouraging tone, "Come, I dare say you must be tired after your walk in this hot afternoon. We shall go to a little room that my aunt has given us to sit in, and see if we cannot find something nice to read and learn," and Grace led the way up the old steps and across the hall, then through what appeared to the children quite a bewildering maze of dark pa.s.sages, so dim and sombre after the bright sunshine, that Grace overheard Jean say in an, abrupt whisper, which was instantly smothered by her brother, "I'm afraid, Geordie; I'm no gain' farther upon this dark road."

At last the little company reached the room that had been a.s.signed to them. It was the old still-room, but it had been long in disuse, and was scarcely less dim than the pa.s.sages which led to it. The high narrow window only admitted a few slanting rays of sunlight, that danced on the white vaulted roof, which was queerly curved and arched by the windings of a narrow staircase above. It looked, however, none the less an imposing chamber to Geordie, who instinctively drew off his cap as he came in from the sunny glare of the fresh spring day to its semi-darkness.

Then Jean, who had decided that the best code of manners was to watch what Geordie did, and follow implicitly, began to pull the strings of her little bonnet, to remove it from her head. It had been a present from Mistress Gowrie on New Year's Day, and this was the first occasion on which Jean had worn it, though it had often been taken from its resting-place in a red cotton pocket-handkerchief, and viewed with complacency. To-day, when it came to be-tied, she had to apply to Geordie, her unfailing help in all extremities; and he in his efforts to make an imposing bow like the one which decorated Mistress Gowrie's ample chin, had knotted the strings after the manner of whipcord, so that they required all Grace's ingenuity to disentangle them.

Presently, after all these preliminaries were satisfactorily accomplished, the young teacher seated herself at the table, and began, to fumble nervously among the books which she had brought to use. There was a little story-book that Walter and she used to like long ago, in which she thought would be nice to read to them, and her mother's Bible, in which she had been searching all the morning for what might be best to choose as the first lesson, having selected and rejected a great many parables and incidents both in the New and Old Testaments, and was even now doubtful what they should begin to read.

The sight of the books reminded Geordie of his pocket compendium of knowledge, and coming to the table he laid the dog-eared "Third Primer"

in Grace's hand, saying, "I've been once through, but I'm thinkin' I've maybe forgot it some. I doubt Jean doesna know one letter from another, though I've whiles tried to make her understand," added Geordie, rather ruefully, as he glanced towards the smiling little maiden, who sat quite unabashed at this account of her ignorance.

Grace was rather taken aback by the sight of the spelling-book, and also by Geordie's statement as to the amount of his knowledge, though it was the same as he had made at their first interview. Grace, however, in her eagerness, had not understood its full import, so she gasped out in some dismay, "But you can read the Bible a little, can you not, Geordie?"

"Maybe I might, if I tried," replied Geordie, in a hopeful tone. "They were just goin' to put me into the Bible when I left the school. I have heard them reading out some of the stories, and I thought they wouldn't be that difficult to spell out. Maybe if I read in the primer for a while, ye'll put me into the Bible," he added, evidently having a strong idea of the necessity for a good foundation of spelling-book lore before proceeding to use it.

But Grace thought ruefully of all her high-flown plans for this Sunday cla.s.s, and felt that it was a terrible descent to be restricted to the "Third Primer." But Geordie seemed convinced that through this dog-eared volume lay the only royal road to learning. He had already opened the book at one of the little lessons near the end which he seemed to think he had not sufficiently mastered in the "schoolin' days" already far away in the distance to the little herd-boy. He still stood by Grace's side at the table, and his finger travelled slowly along the page as he read, in the nasal sing-song tone in which the reading functions were performed at the parish school, one of those meaningless little paragraphs that are supposed to be best adapted by the compilers of primers for teaching the young idea how to shoot.

Grace sat listening, rather perplexed as to what course it would be best to pursue. This certainly was not the kind of ideal Sunday-cla.s.s which she had in her mind all these months; indeed, this "Third Primer" was hardly orthodox food for Sunday at all, according to her ideas; and yet Geordie was laboriously travelling over the page with a dogged earnestness which she did not know how to divert into any other channel without doing harm in some shape or other. But presently help came to her from a quarter where she had least expected it.

Jean, who had been seated on the form unnoticed for several minutes, listening to Geordie's earnest but uninteresting sing-song, as he stood at the table leaning over his lesson-book, got tired of her neglected situation, and descending from her high seat, she planted her st.u.r.dy little legs on the floor, saying, in a decided tone, as she stumped away towards the door, "Geordie, I'm tired sittin' here. I'm away home."

Jean's words fell like a thunderbolt both on Geordie and Grace. The blood mounted to the boy's face, and his earnest blue eyes turned anxiously towards the young teacher, to see what she was thinking of such an utter breach of good manners on Jean's part.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FIRST LESSON.]

Poor Grace felt bitterly conscious of sudden and terrible failure in this work which she had so longed to undertake. She had not been able to interest one scholar for a quarter of an hour, and the other seemed only to have his heart set on learning to spell. "But it is not quite time to go home yet, Jean," she faltered, as she watched the little girl's efforts to open the door, since Geordie did not seem inclined to come to her a.s.sistance. "Indeed, we haven't really begun yet," continued Grace. "Come, Jean, would you not like to stay a little longer and hear a story from the Bible before you go? Geordie used to like them at school, he says;" and then, turning to the boy, who stood looking in grave reproving silence at Jean, she said, "Besides, Geordie, I think, perhaps, I did not quite explain to you the other day what I thought we should try to learn on Sunday afternoons when you come here. I shall be very glad to help you with spelling, too, you know, but I thought I should like to tell you something about the Lord Jesus Christ our Saviour, and to read some of his wonderful words which we find in the New Testament. You have heard of him, have you not, Geordie?"

"Oh, ay, I'm thinkin' I have. But it was in the Auld Testament they were readin' when I was at the school. I mind there was a right fine story about a herd-laddie killin' a big giant, that one o' the laddies telt me once. You've heard it many a time from me, Jean."

"Ah, yes, I know that story too," Grace replied, brightening, as if a glimmer of light had come to her in her perplexity. "And if you will listen, I can tell you another story--about a Shepherd, too. I'm sure you would like it, if you would only come back for a little and listen, Jean," said Grace, eagerly.

She did not venture to open the Bible, in case the little girl should think the book would imply another course of spelling, and be roused into immediate flight. Abandoning all her carefully arranged plans for teaching which she had been thinking of for so long, she looked into Geordie's eyes, which were still wandering hungrily towards the unconquered pages of the primer, and began to tell of the Shepherd who watched the hundred sheep in a wilderness far away in a very hot country, where the burning sun dried up the streams and withered the pasture, and where it was very difficult to find food for either man or beast. And then she told of how very wise and tender this Shepherd was with his flock, looking after their wants day and night, and taking very special care of the silly, play-loving lambs, who did not guess what terrible dangers they might fall into; for there were wild beasts prowling about, ready to pounce upon them, and rushing torrents that came suddenly from the hillsides in rainy seasons, which would have drowned them in a minute, if the Shepherd's watchful eye had not been there. He knew all their names, too, though sheep are so wonderfully like each other."

"Did he though?" exclaimed Geordie. "He must have more wit than Gowrie's shepherd, then. He has been wi' them for more than a year now, and I dinna think he knows the one from the other so well as I do."

Little Jean seemed to have abandoned her design of immediately returning home, and was gradually edging nearer the table, with her twinkling black eyes fixed on Grace.

"But I was going to tell you what happened to one of the little lambs in spite of the Shepherd's watchful care," Grace continued, feeling inspirited by the growing interest of her audience.

"Eh, but I hope none o' the wild beasts ye spoke o' got hold of it,"

said Geordie, drawing a long breath.

"Well, there's no saying what might have happened, but for the Good Shepherd. For the little lamb got lost--lost among bleak, sandy hills, where it could find no green blade to eat, and got very hungry and footsore. It could hear no kind shepherd's voice that it used to love to listen to in happier days, but only terrible sounds like the bark of wolves, coming nearer, and lions prowling about when it began to get dark."

"Puir lambie!" murmured Jean, whose face now rested on her little fat hands, while, leaning on the table, she looked up in Grace's face; "it must surely ha'e been very frightened," she added, in a compa.s.sionate tone; for she knew that she did not like to cross the turf in front of the cottage, after dark, without Geordie's protecting hand.

"Yes, it surely must have been frightened enough, for it was certainly in great danger, and the Shepherd knew what a terrible plight it must be in, wandering about tired and hungry, far away from the fold. For what do you think he did?" Grace continued, looking at Geordie; "he actually left all the other sheep--the ninety-nine, you know--in the wilderness, and went away to seek for this poor little silly lost lamb."

"Did he though! He must have been a real fine man," responded Geordie, warmly. "There's Gowrie's shepherd lost a wee lambie among the hills not lang syne, and when Gowrie asked him, when he came home, why he didna look about among the heather for it, he said he couldn't leave the rest, and that it was a puir sick beastie no' worth much trouble. But it was a nice wee thing for a' that, and it must have died all alone there, with n.o.body to give it a drop of water," said Geordie, regretfully, for he had a tender heart for all dumb creatures. "I must tell Gowrie's lad about this Shepaerd the very next time he comes round the hill. But did he find the lambie?" he asked, turning to Grace.

"Yes, he found it. He looked for it 'till he found it,' the story says.

After wandering along a road full of danger and painfulness, and sorrowful sights of the terrible ruin the wild beasts had wrought, he came upon the little strange lamb, just when its heart was beginning to faint and fail. The story does not say that he punished it for running away and giving him so much trouble, or even that he spoke some chiding words and pushed it along in front of him with his crook, as I have sometimes seen shepherds on the road do when the sheep get footsore and weary and unwilling to go on with the journey."

"Ay do they. They get their licks many a time when they don't deserve them," chimed in Geordie, in a pathetic tone.

"Well, but instead of any hard words or beatings, what do you think the Shepherd did? He took the little lamb into his own weary arms, and it lay safe and warm there, while he carried it all the way home to the fold."

"Did he though?" exclaimed Geordie, in warmest admiration. "Eh, but the lambie must surely have been right fond of the Shepherd after that. I'm thinkin' he would know his voice better than before, and follow him right close and canny. That's the kind o' shepherd all beasts would like, for they know fine when a body cares for them," Geordie said, with a glowing face, as he looked up at Grace, and the "Third Primer" slipped unheeded on the floor.

Was it a mere chance coincidence that this remark of Geordie's came at a moment when it made more easy of introduction to Grace that part of the parable story which she was full of eagerness to tell to her first scholars? She desired that it might prove to them not merely a pleasant tale, which had beguiled an hour that had threatened to be a very weary one, to little Jean, at least; but that, through its homely dress, they might catch a glimpse of its higher meaning, and be able to trace the footsteps of the Great Shepherd of souls.

"Yes, Geordie," she continued, "one would certainly imagine that the sheep would follow such a shepherd very closely, and be very sure that his way was always best, and that he was leading them by wise safe paths, even when they seemed th.o.r.n.y and toilsome; but it is not so. I can tell you of a Shepherd who not only went through many painful dark desolate places, so that his flock might not stumble and fall when they came to follow, but ended by laying down his life for his sheep. And yet these very sheep do not always listen to his voice, nor follow the safe narrow paths which he has tracked out for them, through the wilderness, to the happy fold. I think you must both have heard of this Shepherd, Geordie, and little Jean too."

"I never knew a shepherd except Gowrie's, and he lost the bonnie lambie with the black face, that used to lick Geordie's hand," replied little Jean, with a doleful expression in her usually merry black eyes.

"Ah, but this Good Shepherd always searches for the lost sheep till he finds it, and then he carries it in his arms all the journey through to his beautiful home among the angels, and there is joy among them over the little found lamb. For it is the Lord Jesus Christ who calls himself the Good Shepherd, Jean, and who has told us this story about finding the lost sheep, that we might understand the better how he came to this world to save us from dark dangerous paths of sin that go down to death.

For we have all strayed as this poor silly lamb did, and some of us are straying yet," continued Grace; and then, glancing at Geordie's earnest face, she said, "You have heard of the Lord Jesus Christ, who came to save us from our sins, have you not, Geordie?"

"I have heard tell o' him. But I didna just think he was so real-like as a shepherd with his sheep, or that he would have ta'en that trouble for _one_," Geordie replied, with a dreamy look in his eyes; but he did not say more.

Just then Margery knocked at the door, and intimated that the hour was expired, and little Jean again began to show some signs of restlessness, so Grace felt regretfully that the first afternoon had come to an end, and she had not followed any part of the programme which she had previously marked out. There was the hymn-book, with a tune all ready to sing to one of the hymns, which Grace had practised painstakingly on the piano the day before. But now she found that neither Jean nor Geordie could sing, so she thought it might be wise to select something simpler than she had chosen before, and ended by singing her oldest childish favourite, "The Happy Land." It was evidently new to the children; for their poor old deaf granny's was not a musical home.

Geordie's eyes dilated with delight as he listened, and he kept giving Jean a series of nods across the table, in case she should by any chance miss the full enjoyment of such beautiful sounds.

A second knock from Margery, this time carrying a plateful of currant-cake which Miss Hume had sent to the children, fairly broke up the little gathering. Grace felt with disappointment that this first cla.s.s had come sadly short of her ideal, was a complete failure, in fact, when she remembered all that she had meant to say and do, and all the hoped-for responses on the part of the scholars.

In thinking of this afternoon long afterwards, when it lay in the clear rounded distance of the past, Grace used to smile as she remembered her restless impatience, and compare herself to the little girl who was always pulling up by the roots the flowers she had planted in her garden, to see how they were getting on.