Kitty's Grandmother by Mrs. M. E. Sangster

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Oct 23, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 40.

Kitty's Grandmother.

By Mrs. M. E. Sangster

"It's perfectly impossible to please grandmother, and I do not mean to try any longer," said Kitty, addressing her friend, Miss Theo, the new teacher at the academy.

All the girls were in love with Miss Theo. They admired her pretty dresses, the way she wore her hair, the flowers at her belt, and the gold cross and sparkling crystal which hung from her watch-chain. Privately every girl in the class was determined, when she should be grown up, to dress and move exactly like Miss Theo; to be seen, summer and winter, with a flower or a geranium leaf shining in dainty sweetness somewhere, either at throat or waist; and, if so lovely a thing could be found, to have a crystal for clearness, and a cross for plainness, precisely like those worn by the darling teacher.

"Darling" was the name that fitted her best; the girls all thought of her in just that sweet, caressing manner, and more than blessed was she whom Miss Theo sent on an errand, whose pen Miss Theo borrowed, or by whose desk Miss Theo sat to relate one of her wonderful after-luncheon stories.

The best thing about it all was that the girls, consciously as well as unconsciously, were making lovely Miss Theo their model in more than mere externals. They copied her gentleness, her low, softly modulated tones, her pleasant, "I beg your pardon," and, "Thank you, dear;" and more than one mother was delighted at the charm which she saw growing in her Susy, Jenny, or Sally, a charm never to be attributed to mere arithmetic or analysis.

But Kitty, poor orphaned Kitty Parsons, who lived with her grandmother in the wee brown house, not much bigger than a wren's nest, hidden among the leaves and shrubs, and tucked out of sight, in a turn of the road, under the hill—Kitty had known harder times ever since she had begun to love and copy Miss Theo.

Grandmother was a rough old woman; she took care of Kitty as well as she knew how, and she wanted her to go to school, and learn to read, write, and cipher; but good manners she disliked. She called them "affectation," and was very impatient with that, whatever she meant by it.

"Kitty," said Miss Theo, answering the remark at the beginning of this little story, "whether you can please your grandmother or not, it is your duty to try. It is always our duty to do our very best, because there is One who sees and cares; you know who that is, dear."

"Yes, Miss Theo, Jesus."

"The Master," said Miss Theo, reverently. "Now I will give you a help-word for to-day and to-morrow and all the week: 'Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men.'"

Kitty repeated the verse over twice after Miss Theo, then all the way home she kept saying it until she knew it perfectly. Down the long village street, shaded by the maples, with their glory of flame-colored leaves, past the blacksmith's shop, where she usually liked to loiter a little, watching the red glow of the fire, and hearing the beat of the smith's great hammer, past the bit of woodland where the boys and girls came to gather nuts, she walked slowly, and said the verse. At last she was lifting the little unpainted gate.

"Kitty!" said a sharp voice, "where have you been idling? School must have been out an hour ago. You do try my patience with your dawdling, dilly-dallying ways. Make haste to your room now, change your dress, and finish the ironing before dark. The flats are just right."

Grandmother herself was busy sewing on blue overalls for Farmer Mott's hired man. She did odd jobs of the kind, whenever she could get them, and really needed Kitty's assistance with the work. The trouble was she never asked for it graciously.

"Please, grandmother," said Kitty, "may I draw my map first? I can iron after dark, but I cannot see to draw then."

"Draw a map! No, indeed. I never heard of drawing maps till these new-fangled notions came in at the school."

"But when can I, grandmother?"

"To-morrow morning, if you get up early enough. Iron now, and be quiet about it. Do you hear me, Katharine?"

No wonder grandmother was angry. Kitty was dragging one foot after the other. She knocked down the ironing-board, she let the iron-holder fall on the hot stove, and an odor of burning pervaded the little room. Would Miss Theo have known Miss Kitty? I fear not.

But, presently, better thoughts came. A sweet voice seemed to whisper Kitty's text into her ear. It filled the space about her. And a new feeling, something Kitty had never experienced before, took command of her willful feet and laggard hands, of her pouting lips and frowning forehead.

The lips forgot to pout, the brow smoothed its puckers away, the feet stepped lightly and swiftly back and forth, the hands moved the iron deftly over the nicely dampened clothes; and it was not very long before the task was done, and the old clothes-horse hanging full of pieces, ready to air.

This was doing work "heartily as unto the Lord."

"Grandmother, may I draw my map now? I am sorry I was so cross."

How surprised grandmother was! Never had Kitty made such an acknowledgment before. She said, however, poor grandmother who had not learned any better.

"Well, you ought to be sorry. You've been spry, though. Yes, draw it, if you like."

It did do some good, then, this verse of Miss Theo's.

Kitty finished the map. She learned her lessons, too, in the between-times when she wasn't bringing in wood, or drawing water, or going after the milk, or setting the table, or washing the dishes. That daily changing her dress, on which grandmother insisted, was a necessity; for the child was a little maid-of-all-work at home, and the gray frock and white ruffled apron which she wore at school could not have been kept neat had they not been replaced by calico when school was out.

The next morning Kitty was up bright and early. She loved to go to school. It was just bliss to be there with the girls and Miss Theo. As she tripped down the narrow little stairway, her grandmother called her, not crossly, but plaintively.

"Come here, child, I've a headache. I'll not be able to get up, I'm afraid. You must make me a cup of tea."

"Heartily, as unto the Lord," whispered Kitty to herself. She had been saying her prayers in her little bed-room, and felt as if God had heard her. Yet this was not the answer she was expecting.

She lighted the fire, made the tea, and toasted a half-slice of bread delicately crisp and brown; with the pleasantest face in the world, she brought them to her grandmother, only to hear her say:—

"You won't be able to go to school to-day, Kitty. I'm too sick. You'll have to stay home and take care of me, and finish Jeames Sanders' overalls."

Not one word could Kitty answer. The disappointment was simply so dreadful that she was speechless.

"I promised them to him at 12 o'clock to-day," her grandmother went on. "It's only buttons to sew on, and a few places to stay. You can do it, easily. Go away now, Kitty, darken the room, and keep very still. My head feels as if it would split."

"And my heart," said Kitty, as she looked at her beloved school-books, on the shelf by the clock, not wanted to-day—"My heart feels as if it would break."

She took the blue overalls, spitefully enough, out under a tree, and began to finish them as she well knew how, for Kitty was clever with her needle. She had forgotten her text, when suddenly, high over her head in the tree, a bird began to sing. The time of the singing of birds was past. Most of the warblers were busy with family cares, preparing to move southward before winter, and not feeling like singing. But this bird sang into Kitty's very soul.

And as she listened, her text came to her again: "Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily as unto the Lord."

Even Jeames Sanders' overalls? Yes, Kitty, the Lord accepts that sort of work, if you do it in your very best way, heartily.

"Grandmother needs the money," said Kitty to herself, "and she always keeps her word."

Like a fairy or a mouse, Kitty slipped in the house and out of it; gently she moved, gently she spoke, gently she attended on her grandmother. Though she received no special thanks, it was much that she was not scolded nor found fault with. By and by her grandmother felt able to rise, and sit, dressed in a loose wrapper and a shawl, beside the window.

Little Kitty, feeling strong and well to her very finger-tips, suddenly realized the contrast between herself and the wan, thin, worn old lady, querulous and exacting because she was tired, weak, and unhappy.

"Nobody loves her very much," she thought. "I wonder if I could, if I were to try to do it 'as to the Lord, heartily.'"

Miss Theo's verse was bearing sweet fruit. So do the seeds of the kingdom always, if only you give them room to grow.

"Shall I read to you, grandmother?" said Kitty, later.

"If you like, child."

Then, taking the old brown Bible down, Kitty found the fourteenth chapter of John, and read

those dearest words of the Master: "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you."

Grandmother listened, and her face was no longer cross, but full of peace. When good night time came, she kissed Kitty tenderly, and thanked her.

Next day Miss Theo drew the child close in a loving embrace, as Kitty said:—

"I found out yesterday that it was not impossible to please grandmother, after all; and I mean to try more and more, with your text to help me."—Mrs. M. E. Sangster, in Sunday School Times.