Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 A happy thought
 The giving spirit
 The great expedition
 The result
 Back Cover

Title: How the children raised the wind
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00084123/00001
 Material Information
Title: How the children raised the wind
Physical Description: 64, 2 p. : ill. ; 20 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Lyall, Edna, 1857-1903
Fleming H. Revell Company ( Publisher )
Publisher: Fleming H. Revell Company
Place of Publication: New York ;
Chicago ;
Publication Date: 1896
Subject: Christian life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Sick -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Charity -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children -- Death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Clergy -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Christmas -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Publishers' advertisements -- 1896   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance) -- 1896   ( rbprov )
Bldn -- 1896
Genre: Publishers' advertisements   ( rbgenr )
Prize books (Provenance)   ( rbprov )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- New York -- New York
United States -- Illinois -- Chicago
Canada -- Toronto
Statement of Responsibility: by Edna Lyall.
General Note: Publisher's advertisements follow text.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00084123
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002233392
notis - ALH3800
oclc - 11200850
lccn - 12036329

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Front Matter
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Title Page
        Page 5
        Page 6
    Table of Contents
        Page 7
        Page 8
    A happy thought
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    The giving spirit
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
    The great expedition
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    The result
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
    Back Cover
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
Full Text

k- 12

The Baldwin Lbrary
R man Ur'ermF n.



(L. Y&1 7rrr

d~_ ~s'a~c9,

f '.


. -^- .J ; -^S.:?1^ .^-'
.^ ..,._. ,'

(see page 63)




Author of "Doreen," "Donovan," "We Two," "Knight-Errant,"
etc., etc.

"My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled,
Were but the feeble efforts of a child;
Howe'er performed, it was their brightest part
That they proceeded from a grateful heart."



New York



Copyright, 1896, by


I. A HAPPY THOUGHT .................. 9
II. THE GIVING SPIRIT................... 21
III. THE GREAT EXPEDITION .............. 31
IV. THE RESULT ........................ 49


He that of greatest works is finisher
Oft does them by the weakest minister.



,I LITTLE gleam of light
shone through the picture
i f a Norwegian fiord which
was fastened on to the gas-
globe in the night nursery.
The room had never been
left in total darkness since an evening, now
five years ago, when Fay's pleading little
voice had remonstrated against that "grown-
up people's" theory that there was nothing
dreadful in the dark.
0 mother," said the four-year-old mite,
" don't turn out the gas! You know God
said 'Let there be light! '"
So ever since then that comforting gleam
had been permitted to remain, and it re-
vealed now two childish faces with eager

How the Children

brown eyes, two tangled heads of light hair,
and two deserted pillows; for both Fay and
Mowgli sat bolt upright in their small beds,
with their knees up to their chins, and their
arms clasped round them, like a couple of
meditative Indians.
Mowgli had really been called after one
of the greatest of modern saints and theo-
logians, but his devotion to the boy carried
off by the monkeys in Rudyard Kipling's
"Jungle Book" had won for him the title
which at present suited him far better than
his Christian name.
A weighty subject was under discussion.
Generally the children were too sleepy to
talk, but to-night they had heard a subject
mentioned downstairs which had interested
and puzzled them.
"I can't think why daddy says he must
raise the wind somehow. What good would
that do to the new church 'Twould be
more likely to knock it down-like that

Raised the Wind

wind last year, you know, that blew down
people's chimneys."
"Oh, you stupid!" said Fay, with the
superior wisdom of nine years old contem-
plating "only seven." "Why, of course,
daddy meant getting the money to pay for
the building; it's a sort of-of parable, I
Parables is only in the Bible," said Mow-
gli, stoutly.
"No, they're not; why, there's 'Parables
from Nature' up there in the bookcase,"
said Fay. Then, musingly: "Don't you
see, Mowgli, it's something like this. The
church is like an ark,-it says so in the
Prayer-book, I think,-and the money that
builds it is like the wind that helps it along
by puffing out the sails."
Don't believe the ark had any sails," said
Mowgli the skeptical. "They never do in
the toy-shops."
"Oh, well, it doesn't matter," said Fay,

How the Children

brown eyes, two tangled heads of light hair,
and two deserted pillows; for both Fay and
Mowgli sat bolt upright in their small beds,
with their knees up to their chins, and their
arms clasped round them, like a couple of
meditative Indians.
Mowgli had really been called after one
of the greatest of modern saints and theo-
logians, but his devotion to the boy carried
off by the monkeys in Rudyard Kipling's
"Jungle Book" had won for him the title
which at present suited him far better than
his Christian name.
A weighty subject was under discussion.
Generally the children were too sleepy to
talk, but to-night they had heard a subject
mentioned downstairs which had interested
and puzzled them.
"I can't think why daddy says he must
raise the wind somehow. What good would
that do to the new church? 'Twould be
more likely to knock it down-like that

Raised the Wind

wind last year, you know, that blew down
people's chimneys."
"Oh, you stupid!" said Fay, with the
superior wisdom of nine years old contem-
plating "only seven." "Why, of course,
daddy meant getting the money to pay for
the building; it's a sort of-of parable, I
Parables is only in the Bible," said Mow-
gli, stoutly.
"No, they're not; why, there's 'Parables
from Nature' up there in the bookcase,"
said Fay. Then, musingly: "Don't you
see, Mowgli, it's something like this. The
church is like an ark,-it says so in the
Prayer-book, I think,-and the money that
builds it is like the wind that helps it along
by puffing out the sails."
Don't believe the ark 1had any sails," said
Mowgli the skeptical. They never do in
the toy-shops."
Oh, well, it doesn't matter," said Fay,

How the Children

resignedly; but I know 'wind' means
"I say, how awfully jolly it would be if
we could get some money!" said Mowgli.
"Nurse says father is worried to death about
its coming in so slowly."
"Mother says he can't bear beginning
with a debt on it," said Fay; and he won't
have a bazaar 'cos he says they are bad
things, and that people could give in better
ways if only they would."
"He won't let us even have c'llecting-
cards," groaned Mowgli. I should awfully
like to go about begging; it must be such
jolly fun."
Daddy says it makes prigs of children,"
sighed Fay. I don't know quite what that
means. I think prigging means taking what
isn't yours."
No, it doesn't," said Mowgli. It means
being stuck up and cocky."
Well, we're too naughty to be that," said

Raised the Wind

Fay, truthfully. We're not a bit like the
good children in books. We always forget
and quarrel just when we particularly mean
to be like them. Or nurse startles me with
one of those dreadfully sudden questions,
and I say what's not true. The children in
books never do tell lies, however much peo-
ple take them by surprise and try to trip
them up."
"P'r'aps they did really, only they skip
that part in the stories. Surely we could
earn money somehow."
If there was any way that rather
naughty children could help," said Fay,
There was a silence. The cuckoo-clock
struck eight. Far away in the distance
they heard the town band playing "You
should see me dance the polka." Fay's
feet twitched. She longed to be danc-
Suddenly she clapped her hands joyfully,

How the Children

with the ecstasy of one who has made some
delightful discovery.
"_ll,,/,i,!d" she cried, "I know what we
can do!"
"What ." said Mowgli, his eyes twinkling
with the delight of happy anticipation and
keen curiosity.
Why, we will go round the town like the
band! You shall take the organette that
Miss Gascoigne gave us, and I will take my
tambourine. I did learn the cachucha, you
know, and I can do the shawl-dance too. 0
Mowgli, even rather naughty children could
help to raise the wind like that "
"But how should we collect the money ?"
said Mowgli. Could we go round like the
wife of the Punch-and-Judy men, with a
"That would seem rather like the c'llect-
ing-cards," said Fay, thoughtfully.
"Well then, let's take dear old Poodle,"
said Mowgli. Oh, it would be jolly. We'd

Raised the Wind

fasten my money-box round his neck and
label him very big,' FOR THE NEW CHURCH.' "
Miss Fay and Master Mowgli, how can
you be so naughty as to lie there talking ?"
said nurse, peremptorily.
And both culprits were feeling guilty and
uncomfortable, when the cheering sound of
daddy's steps on the staircase raised their
drooping spirits. The parson was a noted
cricketer and athlete, and had a way of
springing downstairs three steps at a time.
The sound had music in it to Mowgli, who
boldly called, Father! father in his most
penetrating voice. Then he hunted round
swiftly for an excuse for the call.
"Daddy," he said confidentially, "Fay
and I've been talking. I want to know what
being in debt means ezackly."
"It means getting workers to let you
have things and then using the things be-
fore you have paid for them."
"Is it wrong to be in debt ?" asked Fay.

How the Children

"Yes," said the parson, with a sigh; "it
is wrong."
"Not wrong for such a good thing as a
church, though, daddy ? "
"Yes, dear. Wrong is wrong, whoever
does it and whatever the good intention
may be. We had hoped people would give
more readily, but ours have yet to learn
how to give. There, go to sleep, you mon-
keys, and don't worry your brains at this
time of night."
0 daddy, just one minute," pleaded Fay.
"Have you asked old Mr. Britton ? Nurse
says he is very, very rich."
No," said the parson, with a smile. He
is very rich and does many kind things, but
he does not even belong to our church. I
have no right to ask him to give."


Think not rashly that, because
Modern life is smooth and fine,
'Tis not subject to the laws
Of the Master's high design;
That we less require endurance
Than in days of coarser plan;
That we less demand assurance
Of the Godhead hid in man!


SMILE still hovered about
S-.. A his face as he went down
S to his wife.
e I "What do you think
SFay's last idea is? he
Said. "She thinks Mr.
Britton is so very, very
rich, and wanted me to ask him to help
with the new church."
Fay's mother laughed.
It was well known that old Mr. Britton
had a special detestation of all ministers.
The parson would never have thought of
applying to him, though he was not with-
out a certain admiration for the sturdy old
gentleman, and knew how kind he often
was to needy people. Still there was un-

How the Children

doubtedly something awe-inspiring in the
tall, portly figure, in the keen, piercing eyes,
shaggy eyebrows, and fierce gray mustache,
which gave a show of reason to the opinion
that was current in Rickworth. His fellow-
townspeople regarded old Mr. Britton as a
formidable and difficult man to deal with;
they said that the least opposition made him
set his face like a flint; that his denuncia-
tions could be terrible, his criticism scath-
ing in its severity. He had lived all his life
in the place, but had always been accounted
a sort of Ishmaelite.
So the parson only smiled over Fay's idea,
and soon the care-worn look returned to his
face, and once more he began to rack his
brains over those appalling figures which
for the past year had been his torment.
They had not rashly set about building
this new church. Rickworth was a rapidly
growing place, and only the previous Sun-
day many had been turned away from the

Raised the Wind

church door, and people had filled both the
vestry and the porch. Moreover, the old
church, besides being too small, was no
longer really safe; it was beginning to fall
about their ears. Large bits of plaster
dropped from the roof; the windows were
so crazy that on stormy days one trembled
lest they should be blown in; and when it
rained there was a large puddle in the neigh-
borhood of the pulpit. "Soon we'll have
to keep our umbrellas up in church," the
children would observe, and, to tell the
truth, they rather looked forward to a sight
that would be at once so novel and so
"But," said the visitors who at certain
times flocked to Rickworth, which was a
well-known health resort, "there is no pov-
erty here! Rickworth must be a rich place;
you will easily raise the money."
Ah!" sighed the inhabitants, Rick-
worth is such an expensive place to live in;

How the Children

the rents are outrageous, and the taxes a
grievous burden, and even food costs more
than in other places."
So, to use a homely saying, the new church
fell between two stools. The visitors gave
nothing, the inhabitants gave sparingly.
The parson began wearily to think
whether it would be wronging his wife and
children to wring fresh subscriptions from
their own small income; and he prowled
round his bookcases and wondered which
of his well-beloved books would fetch a
really good price at Westell's. Alas! he
knew well enough that there was scarcely a
thing in the house which would bring in
any money.
None of his people had indulged them-
selves in former times, there was no valu-
able old china, there was not a single good
picture, and the Chippendale furniture of
his grandparents had gone to another
branch of the family.

Raised the Wind

But how was he to teach his people one
and all to give freely? How was the giving
spirit to be cultivated in them? A dozen,
perhaps, had come forward well and prompt-
ly, giving what they could, and giving it
with a good will. But most of the people
were hard to move, seeming to consider it
quite their due to find a large and comfort-
able church planted within easy reach of
their homes, and, of course, intending to drop
their weekly shilling into the offertory bag
when once they were inside the newbuilding.
Was it reasonable to expect more of them?
Meanwhile the children's plan gradually
developed itself. Mother," said Fay, coax-
ingly, "Mowgli and I have a secret; you
don't mind, do you ?"
There were many secrets in the autumn
months, and they generally had to do with
Christmas presents.
"I never mind your having a secret if
you are sure it is a right one," said mother.


How the Children

"Oh, this is quite right, mother," they
both protested. It'll be the best we have
ever done. It's something for daddy. You'll
give us leave? And nurse mustn't know,
"Yes, I give you leave," said mother,
"Mowgli," said Fay, as they walked that
morning in the Public Gardens, where the
visitors usually resorted for their constitu-
tional, "we must manage to come here
somehow; it is here we should make most
"And to-day we must cut out the big
letters from all the advertisements and
stick them on to the card for Poodle," said
"I say, Mowgli! such a capital thought's
struck me," cried Fay, pointing to a blind
man who was reading aloud from a Moon-
type Bible. "Look there On the board
round his neck he has 'PITY THE Poon

Raised the Wind

BLIND !' And we must make one for
Poodle with 'PITY THE PooR CHURCH !'"
Mowgli wriggled with delight and laughed
aloud in his glee.
Fay, you're a brick! he said. That'll
be first-rate! P'r'aps we shall get quite a
lot of pennies."


Give us, amid earth's weary moil
And wealth, for which men eark and care,
'Mid fortune's pride and need's wild toil,
And broken hearts in purple rare-

Give us Thy grace to rise above
The glare of this world's smelting fires !
Let God's great love put out the love
Of gold and gain and low desires!


ST happened that the parson
Si and his wife were obliged to
go up to London the next
week to attend the wedding
of an old friend. Fay and
Mowgli were therefore left to
their own devices, for the four elder children
were at various schools, and the Christmas
holidays had not yet begun.
Fortune favored them, for nurse, having
given them strict injunctions to be good
children, went forth as soon as dinner was
over to see her sick mother, who lived three
miles from Rickworth; and the housemaid,
having promised to give them their tea at
five o'clock, left them, as she fondly ima-

How the Children

gained, playing at one of their usual games
of dressing up."
Clearly the hour had come for their great
effort to raise the wind.
The acting-box, as it was called, a delight-
ful collection of old clothes which had seen
much service in charades, was dragged out
from its corner, and Pay hastily donned a
short red skirt, a black velvet body, a gor-
geous Roman sash, and a tiny red toque
fringed with the remains of an Algerian
coin necklace.
Then she turned her attention to Mowgli,
remorselessly thrust him into his last year's
velveteen "Patience" suit, which was very
tight in the back, and, with the help of red
scarfs and a round velvet pork-pie hat of
ancient lineage, transformed him into a
"You are splendid!" she pronounced,
regarding him with pride.
"Hurry up!" said Mowgli, writhing a

Raised the Wind

little in his tight jacket. Now for Poodle.
Here's the box to hang under his chin, and
we'll tie the board on to the top of his collar,
so then every one can read it when he runs
round collecting."
I'll put the key of the box in my pocket,"
said Fay, who was breathless with excite-
ment. "Now for the organette. We'll
fix on the cachucha to begin with, and
we'll take ten other tunes; that will be
The organette measured a foot and a half
square. Mowgli hoisted it up valiantly in
his arms and carried it like a baby; Fay,
with her tambourine, her bell-fringed shawl,
and the extra tunes, boldly led the way to
the front door, and the next moment the
two little minstrels were in the street with
Poodle as a rear-guard.
Fay shivered with excitement; Mowgli
hurried on, panting more and more as they

How the Children

It-it's-jolly-heav-y he gasped,
toiling along under his burden.
"Give it to me," said Fay, holding out
her tiny arms-her "broomsticks," as the
boys irreverently called them.
Oh, I can carry that easily," she pro-
tested. But somehow the organette grew
distinctly heavier as they went farther, and
Mowgli, being a gentleman, soon had to
proffer his help.
At last the Public Gardens were reached,
and choosing a good position near the en-
trance and within sight of the blind man,
they joyfully set down their burden, and as
soon as they had recovered their breath
opened the campaign with a spirited ren-
dering of the cachucha.
The novelty of the thing soon attracted
a small crowd of visitors. Rheumatic old
people in bath-chairs ordered their men to
stop, and peered through their spectacles
at this strange sight. Then when Fay was

Raised the Wind

tired out she took her turn at the organ-
ette; and Mowgli, with the particularly
courteous bow which was exactly like his
grandfather's, and which invariably won
golden opinions, led round the modest and re-
tiring Poodle, who, left to himself, was not at
all.a good beggar, but seemed to have a poor
opinion as to the giving powers of the crowd.
Every one laughed when they read the
appeal fastened to his collar, and there was
not a soul that could resist the eager face
and the hopeful eyes of the small toreador,
who said nothing unless directly questioned,
and whose beaming smile and courtly old-
world bow had a magical way of converting
copper into silver and silver into gold.
However, at last the promenaders left the
gardens, for the wintry days were short and
cold. Then the children decided that the
time had come for the big houses.
Suppose we were to go to Mr. Britton's,"
said Mowgli the valiant.

How the Children

Well, I don't know," said Fay, dubiously.
"Nurse said yesterday lie was a hard man
and a terrible radical. I don't know quite
what a radical is. Father says it's some
one that goes to the very root of the evil,
and tries to tear it up. If he went hunting
for our faults I shouldn't like it."
"He wouldn't have time to find them,"
said Mowgli. We would just play outside,
and p'r'aps he'd throw us some money.
Besides, if nurse says he's hard, daddy said
he was kind."
"Well, let's go first and play outside Miss
Gascoigne's, because we know she's sure to
be good to us," argued Fay.
"No, let's do the worst first. It's better
to eat the bread and save the jam than to
have the dry bread left for the end," said
Mowgli, who, in his way, was a philosopher.
Fay saw that there was truth in this
view, so she raised no more objections, and
the two little minstrels bravely trudged on

Raised the Wind

their way till they reached Ford House, the
lonely home of old Mr. Britton.
By this time the sun was setting, and the
November air had grown icy cold. Fay
shivered as she rested, and Mowgli valiantly
played Dream Faces." But no one came
to the window, and it seemed useless to
dance when there was not a single spectator.
"Play the 'Last Rose of Summer,'" said
Fay. P'r'aps he doesn't like new-fashioned
And the toreador changed the tune and
turned desperately, though his arm ached
in every fiber, and he was obliged to go
down on all-fours in the drive in order to
get power enough to endure any longer.
A joyous exclamation from Fay came to
cheer his failing heart.
"There he is, standing in the window!
He likes the old tunes! 0 Mowgli, play
well, keep on! I'll lead up Poodle so that
be can see the card."

How the Children
Mr. Britton, though, like Barzillai, a very
aged man of fourscore years, had the eyes
of a hawk, and needed no spectacles to read
the appeal.
"' PITY THE POOR CHURCH! '" he ex-
claimed, with a chuckle. Pity the poor
children in the cold, I think."
And, to Fay's great chagrin, he promptly
turned from the window. She was ready
to cry with disappointment, but in a minute
the front door was opened, and there stood
the stately old gentleman beckoning to
them. They hurried forward with hope in
their hearts.
"Come in, my dears," he said. "You
seem rather thinly clothed for a winter's
day. Who sent you out ~ "
We came by ourselves," said Fay, with
an uneasy recollection that she was talking
to a radical who went straight to the root
of evils. "It was our secret. But mother
allowed us to have a secret because we told

Raised the Wind

her it was a good one, and specially for
"What church is it that your dog appeals
for ?"
"The new church in the London Road.
The old one is falling to bits. Daddy says
he must raise the wind somehow, and we
are doing this to help him, and it will be a
great surprise."
"Well, come in, and let me see the per-
formance," said the old gentleman, his eyes
twinkling with amusement as he looked at
the small minstrels. "That instrument
seems heavy. Have you carried it far ?"
"From our house in Dagmar Terrace to
the Public Gardens, and then here," said
Fay; "but we take turns."
They had followed their host into a cheer-
ful library; returned on the electric light and
bade them come and get warm by the fire.
Mowgli set down the organette with a
great puff of relief.

How the Children

You remind me of an old horse of ours,"
said Mr. Britton, who had to carry a very
stout lady; and when she dismounted he
always said Imlunp!' like that, he was so
glad to get rid of his burden."
The children laughed with delight at his
story, and old Mr. Britton tested the weight
of the organette, and muttered something
to himself. It sounded like: "There's
grit in them if they can toil along with
But as neither of the children knew what
grit" was they were none the wiser.
Shall we play to you ?" asked Mowgli.
"I can dance you the shawl-dance," said
Fay, "if you would care for it."
Mr. Britton wished to see and hear the
whole performance; and Rickworth would
have been greatly astonished could it have
seen the smile on the old man's face as he
leaned back in his arm-chair watching the
fairy-like little girl as she glided through

Raised the Wind

the graceful shawl-dance, with all its com-
plicated evolutions, and the twinkle of keen
amusement which lighted up his eyes when
he turned to the vigorous organette-player,
who, with an air of dauntless resolution,
manfully turned away at his handle till he
grew crimson with the exertion.
Presently a servant appeared with a tea-
Bring in two more cups," said Mr. Brit-
ton, "and some cakes. And tell James I
want the carriage in twenty minutes."
There was an ominous sound as of a
splitting seam when Mowgli hastily rose to
his feet after playing to the end of the last
"Oh dear! it's your jacket! What shall
we do It was dreadfully tight, and you've
split it now. We can't go round with
you in rags," said Fay, looking much per-
"It is getting too dark for you to do any

How the Children

more to-night," said old Mr. Britton. Stay
and have tea with me, and then I will see
you safely home when I go out. Now let
me give Poodle my contribution."
But the money-box would not easily re-
ceive the note which old Mr. Britton tried
hurriedly to slip into it.
"Let me help," said Fay. "Why," she
cried breathlessly, "it's-it's a five-pound
note! Oh, how good you are!"
And with one consent both children
launched themselves upon him, and kissed
and hugged him as though they were quite
old friends. He was touched and pleased
by their delighted gratitude. It was not
always that his kindly deeds received any
warm response.
Ho, ho he said, laughing. So you
know a bank-note when you see it ?"
"Why, yes," said Mowgli; "there's that
poem, you know, about the boy who went
to change one for his father and loitered

Raised the Wind

and chattered near a greengrocer's who
kept a goat:
"When what was his horror to see the rude goat
In munching the green stuff eat up his bank-note."

This made Mr. Britton laugh, though
whether at the poem or at the emphatic
way in which Mowgli declaimed the closing
lines, it would be hard to say.
They chattered to him fast during tea,
and he learned that Mowgli's real name was
Maurice, and that Fay was short for Felicia;
that they had come first to his house be-
cause they felt rather afraid of him, but
that they were not at all afraid now, and
never would be again; that nurse had
rather frightened them by saying he was
a terrible radical.
But," proclaimed Mowgli, "we see now
that you dig out the roots of the evil to
plant in the good. And it's awfully good
of you to help us to fight the debt and build
the church."

How the Children

Old Mr. Britton quietly turned the sub-
ject, and kept the two well plied with cakes
and tea until the carriage was announced.
Then, donning a huge Inverness, he gave
his arm to Fay in the most courtly fashion,
and put her into the carriage, taking the
place beside her. Mowgli and Poodle were
ensconced on the back seat, and the servant
stowed the organette safely between them.
"How lovely and springy it is!" said
Mowgli, gleefully.
Fay only looked radiantly happy, and
when they reached the house thanked Mr.
Britton for bringing them home in her
pretty, soft little voice.


Children are God's apostles, day by day
Sent forth to preach of love and hope and peace.



S HERE was a curious stir and
i i'bustle in the house when
'-- they opened the door and
'" triumphantly set down the
S organette in the hall.
S "You are sure they are
il' not in the garden?" they
heard mother's voice saying anxiously.
Here we are, mother! cried Mowgli, at
the top of his voice. "Oh, we've had such
a splendid time! "
The good news that the children were
found soon spread. Daddy came hurrying
in from the garden, and the housemaid from
the bedrooms, where she had been searching
in every nook and cranny, feeling convinced
that theywere only hiding to play her a trick.

How the Children

"We've been dancing and playing the
organette in the Putblic Gardens!" ex-
claimed Mowgli.
"My dear children!" exclaimed mother,
in horrified accents.
"Mother dear, it was our secret that I
specially asked you about," said Fay. "You
know you said we might."
"In the Public Gardens, dear!" said
mother, still shocked and dismayed.
But the parson burst out laughing, and
in the end mother was obliged to let the
corners of her mouth relax, for she caught
sight of "PITY THE Poon CHURCH! on
Poodle's neck, and that was too much for
"We got a lot in the gardens, and then
we played outside Mr. Britton's house; and
he's as kind as he can be," said Fay. "He
said it was too cold for us and gave us tea,
and he liked the organette awfully and the
shawl-dance too, and he brought us back

Raised the Wind

in his carriage. I'm afraid he had it out
on purpose for us, for as we opened our
gate I heard him say Home! to the coach-
"Look what he gave to Poodle," said
Mowgli, as Fay gleefully unlocked the
money-box. "A whole five-pound note!
And here's three half-sovereigns we got
before, and one-two-three half-crowns,
and ever so many sixpences and shillings! "
That was a very happy evening, and the
children felt that their plan had worked
well. But the next morning Fay woke up
to find a raging pain in all her bones, and
when she tried to move she found that she
was set fast, and was as helpless as a baby.
"This is what comes of your foolish
pranks," said nurse, severely. "You have
caught a dreadful cold."
Poor Fay did not attempt to deny it, but
it was, alas! much more than a bad cold;
it was a dangerous attack of rheumatic

How the Children

fever. The little figure that had danced so
lightly and gracefully now lay racked with
pain, and poor Mowgli, with a doleful face,
had to carry his father's note of gratitude
to old Mr. Britton without his friend and
It chanced that Mr. Britton was pacing
up and down his own drive when the child
"Good-morning," he said kindly; "what
have you done with your sister ?"
She's very ill," said Mowgli, sorrowfully.
Mr. Britton made further inquiries of the
servant who had brought the child. He
gathered that Fay was very dangerously ill,
and his kind heart, in which there had
always been a very special place for little
children, grew sad as he thought of the
brave little fairy dancer suffering such
cruel pain.
Come into the greenhouse with me," he
said to Mowgli, "and we will cut some

Raised the Wind

grapes for her. To-morrow you can bring
back the basket and come and tell me how
she is."
For the next ten days Mowgli brought
daily bulletins, but they were never very
hopeful. One day the paper on which the
message was written was blistered with
tears. Mother had written it when hope
was over; the words were: Much weaker;
seems to be passing quietly away."
The old man's hands trembled a little as
he folded up the paper. He paced along
the garden-walk in silence. Death had no
terrors for him, he was willing enough to
die himself; but to him, as to Charles
Kingsley, the death of a child seemed the
mystery of mysteries, the most perplexing
of all perplexing problems.
Come and cut the grapes," he said to
"I think, sir," said the servant, "there'll
be no need for- "

How the Children

Mr. Britton silenced her by one of those
looks which reduced people to abject terror.
Come," he said, with resolute cheerful-
ness. "We have only to see to the grapes;
that's our part."
Something in the sturdy bearing of his
old friend cheered poor little Mowgli, who
was, feeling, as children do feel, the terrible
weight of the home atmosphere.
"Do you really think Fay may get well
and-and eat them?" he faltered.
"I shall hope that she will do so," said
the old man, "until I know it's impossible.
Come, which are her favorites?"
Those lovely big purple ones," said
And he went home cheered and ready to
cheer the rest.
As for old Mr. Britton. be went back to
his library and paced to and fro in deep
"She of her penury," he muttered to

Raised the Wind
himself, "hath cast in all that she hath.
Must this brave little maid die because
people will not give so that they feel the
giving-because we will only give to the
Lord that which costs us nothing ?"
He was not the only one in Rickworth
who asked himself that question while Fay
lay dying because she had worked "not
wisely, but too well."
The treasurer was astonished to see how
subscriptions began to flow in for the new
church; but he hesitated to mention the
matter to the parson, who went about his
daily work with such a broken-hearted look
that kindly people took care not to trouble
him with unnecessary words. He felt that
he had his people's sympathy, and that was
enough for him.
On the evening of the day when Mowgli
had carried the hopeless bulletin to Mr.
Britton, Fay looked drowsily up into her
mother's face.

How the Children

"I've been dreaming I was in that boat
in the picture," she said, looking up at the
Norwegian fiord that shaded the gas. "Do
sing me 'White Wings,' mother; Mr. Brit-
ton liked it that day."
So mother sang as well as she could:

"Sail home as straight as an arrow
My bark speeds along on the crest of the sea."

"Mother," said the weak little voice,
"there's a beautiful lady stroking the pain
out of my legs; she's the lady in Mr. Brit-
ton's picture over the fireplace."
Mother only said she was glad the pain
was going. Then she went on singing
"White Wings" soothingly.
After that little Fay fell asleep.

"Better ?" said Mr. Britton, anxiously,
when the next day he met Mowgli in the
"Much better- out of danger," said
Mowgli, capering about gleefully in the

Raised the Wind

happy reaction from an overwhelming
"Come and fetch more grapes," said Mr.
Britton, cheerfully. "You see they suit
Afterward he took the child into the li-
brary while he wrote a note to the par-
Mowgli stood on the hearth-rug gazing
steadfastly at the picture above the mantel-
piece. It was of a lady with a gentle,
motherly face; in her hands she held some
Gloire de Dijon roses.
"Do you know," said Mowgli, confiden-
tially, "I heard mother say that last night,
just before Fay got that sleep that saved
her, she said the lady in this picture came
and stroked away her pain."
A most wistful look came into the face
of the man the Rickworthians deemed hard.
"Do you mind telling me whose picture
it is?" said Mowgli, politely.

How the Children

"It is my dear wife's picture," said Mr.
Britton; and the child knew, from the vibra-
tion in his voice, that he spoke of one who
was dead.
"Ah! then," said Mowgli, softly, "Fay
was very likely right, and it wasn't just a
fev'rish fancy, as nurse said."
Mr. Britton patted the little fair head,
but did not speak.

After that Fay recovered fast. By Christ-
mas day she was downstairs once more,
but of course there could be no going out
for her. The day was gloriously bright and
frosty; she watched all the people trooping
to church, and longed to be out in the sun-
shine, too. Recovery was a very tedious
process, and she was beginning to think that
a lonely Christmas morning was a most
doleful thing, when, to her surprise and
delight, the gate opened, and a tall, portly
old gentleman walked up to the house. She

Raised the Wind

recognized Mr. Britton in a moment, and
flew to open the door for him.
"Why, my little maid," he said, stepping
inside quickly, and himself closing the door,
"you have not yet learned prudence, I see.
Come in to the fire, or your nurse will be
taking me to task."
So they sat and chatted together like old
friends, while Poodle lay on the rug watch-
ing them with his clear brown eyes, and
perhaps recalling that wearisome day when
he had been forced to carry the money-box,
and to demean himself by begging for the
church-a thing which no well-bred dog
had ever before been required to do.
Daddy is so pleased," said Fay. Every-
body has given now-the poor people and
the rich people, and the ones in between;
and they all seem to care, somehow. There's
only one thousand now to clear off."
"My dear, I think we may regard the
debt as no longer in existence," said old Mr.

How the Children

Britton, giving a farewell kiss to the little,
thin, white-faced invalid. Give that en-
velope to your father when he comes back,
and say it is from an anonymous giver, and
is to be entered with the rest of the 'Chil-
dren's Fund.'"
"Anonymous ?" said Fay. "Is that the
same person who wrote so many poems in
'Select English Poetry' ?"
Mr. Britton went out chuckling. Some
one of that family, I should think," he said.
" Good-by, my dear. A happy Christmas
to you."

"Daddy," said Fay, eagerly, when later
on she watched her father's face as he
opened the envelope, "has one of the anon-
ymous family really killed the debt ? "
The parson's eyes had a strange light in
Yes," he said, turning hastily away.
Mowgli relieved the tension of the mo-

Raised the Wind

ment by a vociferous cry of Three cheers
for him !"
Whereupon they all hurrahed till mother
begged for mercy. Then, rushing to the
organette, Mowgli began to play "White
Wings" with all the energy in his being,
while Fay, for the first time since her ill-
ness, caught Poodle by the fore paws and
gaily waltzed round the room with him.
And that was how the children raised the

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Small 4to, decorated cloth, each, 50 cents.

A Thoughtless Seven. By the author of"'Probable
Sons.'" Illustrated.
A record of the doings of seven youngsters, brothers and sis-
ters, who spend their summer vacation at the seashore. One
of them becomes impressed with the fact that they should not
waste their time so entirely, and endeavors to bring the others
to her way of thinking.
How the Children Raised the Wind. By Edna Lyall,
author of "Doreen," "Donovan," "We Two,"
etc. Illustrated by Mary A. Lathbury.
A charming story of the successful efforts of two children
to help pay off a debt on a church of which their father is the
pastor. The amusing methods of the little ones to collect
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Adolph, and How He Found the "Beautiful Lady."
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I _


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