Chapter 6

“Why,” said Tip, as he sat on the foot of the bed, turning over the leaves of his Bible—“why, that is the very thing I want. ‘I will instruct thee, and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go.’ Yes, that’s exactly it. I want to begin today, and do every single thing so different from what I ever did before, that nobody will know me. Now, if He’ll help me, I can do it. I’ll learn that verse.”

The verse was repeated many times over, for Tip was not used to study. While he was busy thus, the Spirit of God put another thought into his heart.

“I must ask Christ to help me now,” he said, with reverent face. And, kneeling down, he made known his wants in very simple words, and in that plain, direct way which God loves. Then he went downstairs, prepared for whatever should befall him that day.

Kitty was up, and rattling the kitchen stove.

“Kitty, what’s the matter?” Tip asked, as he appeared in the door.

“What’s the matter with you? How did you happen to get up?” Receiving no answer to this, she continued, “Everything is the matter—everywhere—and always is! These nasty shavings are soaked through and through, and the wood is rotten—and there isn’t any wood anyway—and I can’t make this fire burn to save my life. Mother is sick in bed—can’t sit up at all. She told me to make a cup of tea for Father, and things look as if it would get made some time next month.”

Kitty was only twelve years old, but, like most of those children who have been left to bring themselves up, and pick up wisdom and wickedness wherever they are to be found, she was wonderfully old in mind; and was so used to grumbling and snarling, that she could do it very rapidly.

“Oh,” said Tip to himself, drawing a long breath, “what a place for me to commence in!” Then he came bravely to Kitty’s aid.

“See here, Kitty, don’t make such a rattling; you’ll wake Father. I can make this fire in a hurry. I have made one out of next to nothing, lots of times. You just put some water in the tea-kettle, and we’ll have a cup of tea in a jiff.”

Kitty stood still in her astonishment, and watched him while he took out the round green sticks that she had put in, laid in bits of dry paper and bits of sticks—laid them in such a careless, uneven way, that it seemed to her they would never burn in the world; only he speedily proved that they would, by setting fire to the whole, and they crackled and snapped in a most determined manner, and finally roared outright.

Certainly Kitty had never been so much astonished in her life. First, because that rubbish in the stove had been made to become such a positive fire. Secondly, that Tip had actually set to work without being coaxed or scolded, and had made a fire!

There was a queer, new feeling about it all to Tip himself. For, strange as it may seem, so entirely selfish had been this boy’s life, that this was actually the first time he had ever, of his own free will, done anything to help the family at home. His spirits rose with the effort.

“Come, Kitty,” he said briskly, “here’s your fire. Now, let’s fly round and get Father and Mother some breakfast. Say, do you know how to make toast?”

“It’s likely I do,” Kitty answered shortly. “If you had roasted your face and burnt your fingers as often as I have, making it for Father, I guess you would know how.”

“Well, now, just suppose we make two slices—one for mother, and one for Father—and two cups of tea. My! you and I will be jolly housekeepers, Kitty.”

“Humph!” said Kitty contemptuously.

You see, she wasn’t in the least used to being good-natured, and it took a great deal of coaxing to make her give other than short, sharp answers to all that was said. But, for all that, she went to work, after Tip had poured some water in the dingy little tea-kettle and set it over the fire, cutting the two slices of bread, and getting them ready to toast when there should be any coals.

Tip, meantime, hunted among the confusion, of all sorts of things in the cupboard, for two clean plates and cups.

“You’re taken with an awful clean fit, seems to me,” Kitty said, as she stood watching him while he hunted for a cloth, then carefully wiped off the plates.

“Yes,” answered Tip good-naturedly. “I’m going to try it for a spell, and find out how things look after they are washed.”

Altogether it was a queer morning to both of them; and each felt a touch of triumph when at last the toast lay brown and nice, a slice on each plate, and the hot tea, poured into the cups, smelled fresh and fragrant.

The two children went softly to the bedroom door in time to hear their father say, “What makes you try to get up, if your head is so bad?”

“Oh, what makes me! What else is there for me to do? The young ones are both up, and if I find the roof left on the house I’ll be thankful. I never knew them to stay together five minutes without having a battle.”

At almost any other time in her life these words would have made Kitty very angry; but this morning she was intent on not letting her tea spill over on the toast, and so paid very little attention to them.

Tip marched boldly in with his dish, Kitty following.

“Lie still, Mother, till you get some of our tea and toast, and I reckon it will cure you.”

Mrs. Lewis raised herself on one elbow, saw the beautiful brown slices, caught a whiff of the fragrant tea, then asked wonderingly, “Who’s here?”

“Kitty and me,” Tip made answer, proudly and promptly.

Something very like a smile gathered on Mrs. Lewis’s worn, fretful face.

“Well, now,” she said, “if I ain’t beat! It’s the last thing on earth I ever expected you to do.”

What spell had come over Tip? Breakfast was a great success. After it was over he found a great many things to do; the rusty old axe was hunted up, and some hard knots made to become very respectable-looking sticks of wood, which he piled in the wood box. Kitty, under the influence of his strange behaviour, washed the dishes, and even got out the broom and swept a little.

Altogether, that was a day long to be remembered by Tip, a day in which he began his life afresh. He made some mistakes; for he fancied, in his ignorance, that the struggle was over—that he had only to go forward joyfully over a pleasant road.

He found out his mistake: he discovered that Satan had not by any means given him up; that he must yet fight many hard, hard battles.