Patricia St John Series

by Patricia St John

  They drove home in the evening, Jenny’s head leaning against her father’s shoulder. She was disappointed because she had not managed to speak to her aunt, and doubts were beginning to creep in. They were driving through a low-water meadow with white lilies growing in clumps by the river. Jenny suddenly remembered that the next day would be Easter Sunday, and she sat up quickly.

  Jenny liked Easter Sunday. There were always white flowers on the breakfast table and big, colored Easter eggs around her plate. After breakfast they would go to church, which was decorated with white lilies and narcissi and bright daffodils, and the choirboys in white robes sang, “Jesus Christ is risen today … Alleluia!”

  Here they would not go to church because there was no church to go to, but Jenny decided she could visit Aunt Rosemary early with some white flowers, and perhaps then she could tell her her secret. She laid her hand on her father’s arm.

  “Stop, Daddy,” she said.

  Mr. Swift stopped. “What’s up?” he inquired.

  “I want to get something,” Jenny explained. She jumped out of the car and ran backward a little so that they could not see what she was doing. She raced across the field, gathered an armful of lilies from the water’s edge, wrapped them in her sweater, and raced back to the car.

  “What have you got there, Jenny?” asked her father.

  “A secret,” replied Jenny. “We can go on now!” Mrs. Swift, who had been watching her nimble little daughter through the back window, smiled and said nothing. It was not till Jenny was tucked in bed and the flowers were up to their necks in the water jug that she understood what it was all about.

  “Mummy,” said Jenny, “it’s Easter Sunday tomorrow, and on Easter Sunday there are always white flowers. Can I get up very early and take my lilies to Aunt Rosemary as an Easter surprise?”

  “Of course,” answered her mother. “What a lovely idea. She has been so kind to you, Jenny. You can go when you wake up. I expect you’ll stay and have breakfast with her. I’ll put your clean clothes out now.”

  She laid out Jenny’s best dress and clean socks, kissed her good night, and left her. Jenny went to sleep at once, looking forward to the morning. Perhaps it was all going to turn out right after all.

  She woke very early, just at the time when in England the church bells would start ringing to remind people that Jesus Christ had risen. She jumped out of bed, washed and dressed herself extra carefully because it was Easter Day, and set off.

  She knocked at the door and Auntie Rosemary, who was up having her breakfast, appeared at the window, surprised at such an early caller. Seeing who it was, she ran down to open the door, and Jenny bounded in joyfully and held up her bouquet.

  “White flowers for Easter!” she announced triumphantly. “I picked them yesterday without you seeing me.”

  They went upstairs to where breakfast was laid on a white cloth, with a bowl of primroses in the middle of the table. They arranged Jenny’s flowers in a vase behind the primroses and sat down to enjoy themselves.

  “It looks like a church at Easter time, doesn’t it?” remarked Jenny. “On Easter Sunday at home, Mummy, Daddy, and I always go to church. It’s a pity there isn’t a church here, isn’t it, so we could all go together?”

  “Yes,” answered her aunt. “I really miss going to church. Yet you know, Jenny, it doesn’t really matter in a way. The main reason for going to church is to meet God, and we can meet God anywhere. I meet Him here every day in my room. Just now when you came I was reading the Easter story in my Bible.”

  “Will you read it to me if you’ve finished eating?” asked Jenny eagerly, settling herself very comfortably to listen while Aunt Rosemary read to her.

  “Jesus met Mary in the garden,” said Aunt Rosemary. “And He met some of the disciples in a little room, and He met two others on the road, and He met Peter on the beach. So you see, it isn’t really necessary to go to a building.”

  “No,” said Jenny simply, lifting a bright face. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. The other day … the day you went to fetch Kinza … I thought He met me, up on the hillside. I asked Jesus to come and live inside me, like the light in the lantern, and stop me being selfish and cross. And I felt so happy and I thought He had come. But yesterday I began to wonder if it was all really true. Do you think He really came, Auntie? I don’t really feel very different.”

  Aunt Rosemary was silent for a moment. Then she said quietly, “Jenny, how did Mary feel quite sure that Jesus had really come to her?”

  “When He said her name,” answered Jenny. “It was easy for her. She heard Him and saw Him.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Aunt Rosemary. “But it’s really quite easy for us, too, if only we believe that God speaks the truth. I’m going to read you something, Jenny, and then I’m going to tell you a story.”

  “Good,” said Jenny, who loved stories. She wriggled close to look at Auntie Rosemary’s Bible. They read Isaiah chapter 43 verse 1:

  Thus says the LORD: “… Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; you are Mine.”

  “That verse reminds me of Kinza the night we went to look for her,” said Rosemary, glancing at the lump in the corner where Kinza was sleeping. “She was living with me quite happily, but she was stolen and taken away from me. I love Kinza very much and I knew she’d be unhappy, so I went after her. I found her hungry and frightened and wanting me. She didn’t know I was there, but I knew she was there, so what did I do?”

  “Shouted her name!” said Jenny with sparkling eyes. She knew this story well and would never tire of hearing it again.

  Aunt Rosemary laughed. “Yes, that’s right,” she said. “I called her by her name. And what did Kinza do?”

  “Hustled out from under her blanket in no time!” cried Jenny.

  “Yes, she hustled out in no time,” repeated Aunt Rosemary. “She was unhappy and frightened, and she knew if she came out she would be safe and happy, so she didn’t stop to ask how or why or if it really was me. She knew it was me by the way I called her name, and she came straight into my arms and felt perfectly safe; she knew she could trust me. And that’s exactly what happened to you on the hillside, Jenny. You didn’t know much about Jesus; you were just miserable and tired of yourself. But Jesus knew all about you, and He wanted to make you good and happy. So He called you by your name, and you knew it was Him and you came at once and felt perfectly safe.”

  “Only for two days,” answered Jenny.

  “Yes, exactly,” agreed Aunt Rosemary; “That’s just what happened to Kinza. She hadn’t been in my arms two minutes before her stepfather began talking, and Kinza began to tremble and cry. I was holding her just as close, and loved her just as much, but as soon as she heard the voice of the man who had stolen her and beaten her, she began to feel afraid and wonder if it was all right after all. Sometimes we might worry and feel afraid and wonder if it’s all true. But our feelings don’t really matter very much, because Jesus doesn’t change. He holds us just as close and loves us just as much whether we worry about it or not.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Jenny thoughtfully.

  “Now listen to what happened next. I went up to Si Mohamed and I took some money out of my pocket and paid him, and if Kinza had been old enough to understand, I’d have said, ‘Don’t be afraid, Kinza. I’ve redeemed you—that means bought you back again. No one can take you away from me now. You’re my little girl forever.’ But I just whispered, ‘Don’t be afraid, Kinza; you’re my little girl now.’ And Kinza did a very sensible thing. She believed me and she stopped being afraid. Although that cruel man was still standing in front of her and talking, she just clung to me as close as she could and fell asleep in my arms and slept all the way home. The only way to stop feeling afraid is simply to believe what Jesus says. He rose again on Easter Sunday so that He could live in the hearts of everybody who hears His call and comes to Him.”

  Jenny sat quite silent, thinking over what her aunt had said. She felt perfe
ctly happy because now she understood what had really happened. Jesus had loved her and died for her and paid for her and called her and made her His own. All she had to do was simply come and believe Him.

  They talked for quite a while after that, and then Kinza woke up and wanted her breakfast, and Jenny went skipping off through the sunshine to find her father and mother. But Rosemary sat very still, watching her curly-headed baby who sat with her face buried in her bowl of milk.

  She had felt quite sure for the past few days that it was not safe for Kinza to stay with her any longer. As soon as the stepfather wanted more money, he could easily come and claim the child. For the next few years she must be taken somewhere out of his reach, and the obvious place was Jenny’s blind school.

  And yet what Rosemary wanted more than anything else for Kinza was that she be brought up by someone who would teach her to love Jesus while she was still tiny. Now she knew the answer quite clearly. She would ask Jenny to teach Kinza, and pray that the Holy Spirit of God would teach Jenny what to say.

  Partings and Plans

  When Jenny was told that Kinza was going home with them, she nearly went wild with joy and excitement, and danced about like a crazy little lamb. The thought of having Kinza to look after on the journey didn’t make it so hard to say good-bye to Aunt Rosemary. It was not going to be a very long goodbye, anyway, as Aunt Rosemary was due home on holiday in the summer and had promised to come stay with them.

  The evening before they left, Jenny took her aunt and Kinza for a last walk up the mountain, and they sat there together for a little while watching the sunset.

  “Are you sad that Kinza’s going away, Auntie?” asked Jenny suddenly.

  “Well, of course I will miss her dreadfully, but I feel quite happy about her. You see, what I want most of all for Kinza is that she learns to know and love the Lord Jesus while she’s still tiny, and now that you know Him you’ll be able to teach her. Of course, I expect she’ll learn something at the blind school, but such a small child needs someone special all to herself to teach her.”

  Jenny looked serious. “I don’t know that much myself,” she replied doubtfully. “Who’ll teach me, Auntie Rosemary? At school they don’t talk the way you do.”

  “Yes, it does seem difficult,” said Aunt Rosemary. “But it’s quite all right, because you’ve got your Bible, and you’ve got the Holy Spirit of Jesus in your heart to show you what it means and help you understand it.”

  “There are such long words in it,” said Jenny, still doubtful.

  “I’m sure you’ll find Mummy and Daddy willing to explain hard words if you ask them,” answered Rosemary. “They are interested in everything that interests you. Have you told them what happened to you and why you want to read the Bible?”

  “No,” said Jenny, frowning. “I wanted to, but somehow I couldn’t explain.”

  “Well, it would be a very good thing to tell them in words,” said Rosemary, “but a far more important way is to show them that you are a changed girl—that Jesus is changing your bad-tempered, selfish ways. And as soon as that begins to happen, Mummy and Daddy will know all about it without any telling.”

  “Yes,” agreed Jenny. “They’d certainly be pleased if I really became nice and good and never got into rages, and I expect they’d want to know why too. I think I’d better show them first, and then they’ll believe me when I tell them. Let’s go home now, and I’ll show them I want to help with the packing.”

  Next morning at dawn, they all gathered at the hotel door to say good-bye. Hamid came to say good-bye to his little sister. Mr. and Mrs. Swift were busy with porters and bills. While she waited, Rosemary stood watching the three children whom she had come to love more than any other children she knew. They stood in a little group by the luggage—beautiful, rich Jenny, ragged Hamid, and blind Kinza. She wondered what lay ahead of them and felt thankful that the light of Jesus’ love would guide and protect them. One day they would all meet again in heaven.

  A few moments later they had said good-bye, and the car drove off toward the green valley. Jenny’s eyes were full of tears, but Kinza, beating excitedly on the windows, had not yet realized that Rosemary was not also inside. When she did realize, she would no doubt be comforted quickly with a biscuit. They drove around the corner and out of sight, and Rosemary was comforted to find that one of her children, at least, was still close beside her. One great mission of Hamid’s young life had been completely successful, but his little sister would never need him again. She would have fine clothes, big cars, and good food. Now he had to return to the deserted marketplace, hunger, homelessness, and rags.

  “Come and have breakfast,” said the nurse at his side.

  He brightened up at once and forgot all his troubles. The thought of hot coffee and bread and butter made the world seem much happier. He raced along beside her, rubbing his hands delightedly. He had no work today because the master had gone to town, so there was plenty of time and, apart from this invitation, little chance of anything to eat.

  When breakfast was over, he had his daily reading lesson. He was getting on very fast, and the nurse marveled at him. She had taught all types of children, and it was amazing how quick the street children were to learn. Their wits and memories were sharpened by the struggle they had to just keep alive, and they had trained themselves to look and remember. In a week, Hamid had learned all his letters and knew the repeating exercises by heart; in fact, he was rather boastful about it.

  “Now I know everything,” he remarked, beaming as he struggled through a few three-letter words.

  “Oh, no, Hamid; you are only just beginning. You must practice putting the letters into words, and you must come every day if you want to read the Bible by harvesttime.”

  He nodded confidently. “By harvesttime,” he repeated. “Then I shall go back and read the Word of God to my mother. Then she will know the way to heaven, too, and even if my stepfather beats her and won’t give her enough food, the Lord Jesus will make her heart happy.”

  “Will your stepfather let you read the Word of God to her?”

  “Oh, no. But I shall read it in the granary when my mother is grinding corn, and I shall read it to my sister Rahma when we look after the goats on the mountain. Si Mohamed will never know.”

  “But later on, Hamid, he will have to know if you are going to follow Jesus faithfully. You will have to tell him and he may beat you. But Jesus suffered a great deal for you because He loved you. If you love Him, you must be willing to suffer a little too.”

  He turned thoughtful, troubled eyes on her. “I do love Him very much,” he said, and got up to go, leaving Rosemary happy with his answer.

  It wasn’t long before Hamid could read, because he worked at it so diligently. To Rosemary it seemed no time at all before she was bringing him his farewell meal of bread and lentils.

  Hamid wasn’t traveling alone; he had some companions. He had much farther to travel than the others, but packed in with the crusts and the water bottle and the cherries, he carried his precious new Bible—the Word of God, which would guide and protect him. He had Jesus’ promise, “I am the light of the world. He who follows Me shall not walk in darkness, but have the light of life.”*

  Rosemary watched the boys as they scampered away, and at the end of the street they all turned and waved, five bright little figures black against the sky. Then they turned the corner and disappeared into the glorious light of the sunset.

  * John 8:12

  © 1948 PATRICIA M. ST. JOHN

  First published 1948

  This edition first published 1999

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-0-8024-6576-4

  Printed by Versa Press, East Peoria, IL – October 2009

  We hope you enjoy this book fr
om Moody Publishers. Our goal is to provide high-quality, thought-provoking books and products that connect truth to your real needs and challenges. For more information on other books and products written and produced from a biblical perspective, go to www.moodypublishers.com or write to:

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  Printed in the United States of America

  Contents

  1 About Ourselves

  2 Holiday Plans

  3 The Wigwam

  4 Terry

  5 The Lost Lamb

  6 A Brilliant Idea

  7 An Unfortunate Tea Party

  8 Running Away

  9 I Make a New Friend

  10 My Sheep Hear My Voice

  11 The Accident

  12 A Visit to the Vicarage

  13 We Get a Letter

  14 A Moonlight Adventure

  15 About Giving

  16 Hops and Mushrooms

  17 The Secret

  18 Terry at Home

  19 Mr. Tandy Explains

  20 A Perfect Christmas

  Revised Edition

  It has been over fifty years since the first editions of Patricia St. John's Treasures of the Snow and The Tanglewoods' Secret were published, and they have become classics of their time.

  In these new editions, Mary Mills has sensitively adapted the language of the books for a new generation of children, while preserving Patricia St. John's superb skill as a storyteller.

  References to money are pre-decimal currency: 1/-(one shilling) equals 5p. There were 12 old pence in a shilling and 20 shillings in a pound.