WHILE WE HAVE TIME by Sydney Dayre

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jun 24, 1897

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 23, No. 24.

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WHILE WE HAVE TIME.

By Sydney Dayre

'WE ought to step in and see Helen Marsh,' said Mary Lee to her schoolmate, as they walked home at noon.

'Dear, I can not bear to see any one who is in such distress,' said Janet Harrow.

'I know it is hard,' said Mary, 'and I never know what to say.'

'We have so little time just now.'

'Yes, but this day after her mother's funeral must be such a trying one to her, and we can show that we are thinking of her in her trouble, and that will be something.'

The door was opened to them by a sad-faced girl, who looked to her young friends as tho years might have gone over her head since they had last seen her as one of the merriest among them.

'Perhaps you are busy,' said Mary, as she led them in. 'It is not exactly the time of day for a visit, but we wanted to let you know that we did not forget you.'

'Yes, I am busy, but not too busy to be glad to see you.'

'When are you coming back to school, dear?' asked Janet.

'I don't know,' said Helen, with a sorrowful shake of her head. 'I find more to do here at home than I ever dreamed of before. And I used to let mother do it all,' she said, bursting into sobs, which shook her whole frame.

'Why, Helen,' said Mary, anxious to say something comforting, 'you were in school—you had so much studying to do. You had no time for helping.'

'So I used to think, but I can see it differently now. And it seems to me that I would gladly give half of my life if I only had the chance of helping her. And I never, never can—and sometimes I think that perhaps if I had, she might be here now.'

'Dear Helen,' said Mary, greatly moved by her friend's distress, 'you must not think so. God knew when to take your dear mother.'

'Yes,' said Helen, 'and all my thinking what I might have done is of no use now.'

'O girls,' she said, as they bade her good-by, 'do be thankful that it is not too late for you to help your mothers! If I only could see my mother smile, and hear her loving words, it seems as tho I would never think anything hard again.'

Little was said by Helen's friends as they walked toward their homes. Janet's heart was full, and she felt as tho she could not wait for an opportunity to throw herself into her mother's arms and speak to her of what she felt.

But as she drew near the gate, she saw her mother stepping into a chaise which stood there.

'It is an inconvenient time for me to be going away,' she said to Janet, looking into her face as if in fear of some petulant objection, 'but little Dolly has been taken ill, and your Aunt Eleanor wants me to see her. I will come back as soon as I can. The dinner is all ready for you and father and Will to sit down; and, Janet, my dear, be sure to keep those crab-apples warm on the back of the stove. I was just ready to make the jelly. Good-by, my daughter.'

Janet had been marking the lines of care in the dear, patient face as she talked, and as the chaise drove away, she turned into the house with a feeling of discontent.

She had wanted to begin at once to show how she intended to help her, and now she was gone, and things looked cheerless and comfortless without her. Father evidently thought so; for he hurried away as soon as dinner was over.

'It seems lonely,' said Will. 'I wonder what we'd do if mother was away every day.'

Janet was looking at the dishes on the table, thinking how she hated to wash dishes. But Will's words recalled something Helen had said.

'I'll have everything done by the time mother comes back,' she said. 'I'll run and take off my school dress. I can always work better when I go at it thoroughly. O Will, won't you see if the fire is all right to keep the crab-apples hot till mother comes?'

Returning to the kitchen, she found Will looking at a row of glass jars.

'It's a pity mother couldn't have finished her jelly before she had to go,' remarked Janet. 'She will be so tired when she comes back.'

'Why don't you make the jelly?' asked Will.

'I? Why, I never made jelly in my life.'

'It's time you did, then, isn't it?' said Will bluntly but not unkindly. 'Doesn't the cookery book tell all about it?'

'Sure enough,' said Janet, running to look at it. 'Yes, here it is—so much sugar to so much juice. Why, Will, wouldn't it be delightful to have it done when mother comes?'

'Delightful to her, I guess,' said Will. 'I'll help.'

His strong hands gave valuable help in the squeezing. Janet let the other work wait until the jelly was made, and then she declared she was so taken up looking at the glasses of bright-colored jelly that she could scarcely wash the dishes. Will brought a towel to wipe them as she washed, and both made such good use of their time that the kitchen was in perfect order, and Janet had changed her dress again, and was busy over her geometry, when mother drove up to the door.

'How is little Dolly, mother?'

'Doing well now, but Eleanor was too frightened about her to let me come away before.'

'Don't put on your kitchen dress again, mother,' said Janet. 'You must not do any more work to-day.'

'Yes, I must, dear; there is that jelly. O, did you keep the crab-apples hot, as I told you, Janet?'

'No, mother, I didn't.'

'Dear me! Will, do bring some wood. Perhaps they will do warmed up again.'

But she stopped at sight of the clean kitchen and the jelly glasses, with a smile on her face which it did Janet good to see.

'Everything done!'

'Now come and rest, mother,' said Janet, taking her arm.

'My dear daughter, what a comfort and blessing you are to me!'

The words were very sweet to Janet.

'And I'm going to deserve just such words and many more such, if God will only let me keep my mother,' was her inward resolution. —Sydney Dayre.