Treasures of the Snow (17 page)

Lucien didn’t stay very long, and when he was gone Annette got up to go to bed.

“Annette,” said Grandmother, “remember that when Jesus comes in, you must do what He tells you, and not what you want any longer.”

“Yes, Grandmother,” said Annette rather sadly. She went upstairs and knelt down by her bed to pray.

“Lord Jesus,” she said, “I do want to do what You say. If I’ve really got to tell, please make me brave and stop me being afraid.”

Annette got into bed with a lighter heart and soon fell asleep. In the morning she woke early, and as she lay sleepily in the darkness she saw a light creeping through a hole in the shutter. Jumping out of bed, she flung back the shutters and the light streamed in. It filled the little room that had been so dark with the sweet, cold freshness of early morning.

“It’s like Grandmother said, thought Annette. Hating Lucien is like shadows, and being afraid of owning up is like shadows. But letting Jesus in is like opening the shutters.”

Then, limping a little, she dressed and went to the kitchen, where Grandmother was stirring the coffee.

“Grandmother,” she said firmly, “I want to go and see the schoolmaster this morning.”

“What’s this all about?” said Papa, who was knocking the snow off his boots in the doorway. “If Annette wants to see the schoolmaster she can come down with me. I’m taking the cheeses down to the train in the mule cart. I’ll drop Annette at his house and pick her up on the way back from the station.”

Annette’s face brightened. If she had had to wait, she might have started feeling terribly afraid again.

Sitting beside Papa in the mule cart, with the cheeses bumping about behind her, and the Noah’s ark animals wrapped carefully in a hanky, she didn’t feel quite so happy. She couldn’t imagine what she would say to the schoolmaster! What if he was very, very angry with her? He might easily be.

“What do you want to see the schoolmaster for?” asked Papa suddenly. “Are you tired of having no lessons to do?”

Annette leaned her head against his coat. “No,” she replied shyly. “It’s just something I want to tell him. It’s a secret, Papa.”

She slipped her hand into his as he held the reins. As he was a good, wise man, he just smiled and asked no more questions. He was a very busy man, working hard from early morning till late at night to make his little farm pay enough to keep his children. He did not often have time to talk to them seriously. He left that to Grandmother. But he usually knew what they were thinking by watching their faces and listening to their chatter. In the quiet of the cattle sheds and the forests as he worked for them, he thought about them and prayed for them. He knew that his little daughter had been miserable, and that something had happened and that she felt happy and peaceful, and he was glad.

They jogged on in silence until the white house came in sight. “Down you get,” said Papa, “and I’ll be back for you in about half an hour.”

The mule trotted on, and Annette, with her heart beating very fast, walked up the path, and stood for a long time without daring to knock. She might have stood there until it was time to go home again if the schoolmaster had not seen her out of the window and come and opened the door without her knocking.

“Come in, come in,” he said kindly, taking her into the little room where they had so often sat and done lessons together. He loved his students, and in holiday time he missed them and liked them to call on him. Annette went straight to the table and undid her handkerchief and arranged the little Noah’s ark animals in a row.

“Lucien made them,” she announced firmly. “Aren’t they good?”

The master picked them up and examined them with interest. “They are beautifully done,” he replied. “They are really exceptional for a boy of his age. He will soon be able to earn his living. I had no idea he could carve like that. Why didn’t he enter the handwork competition?”

“He did,” answered Annette, still very firmly. “That’s what I came to tell you about. He made a little horse, and I smashed it when he wasn’t looking because I was so angry about Dani. But I’m sorry now, and I wondered if he couldn’t have a prize after all—now that you know all about it.”

The schoolmaster looked at her thoughtfully. Her cheeks were scarlet and her eyes fixed on the ground.

“But I haven’t another prize,” said the school-master at last. “There were only two. One was given to Pierre and one to you.”

“Then Lucien ought to have the one that was given to Pierre. It was for the best boy, and Lucien’s carving was much better than Pierre’s.”

“Oh, no,” replied the schoolmaster, “we couldn’t do that. After all, Pierre won quite fairly. We couldn’t take his prize away. If you really want him to have a prize, you will have to give him yours. It was your fault that he lost, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Annette. And she sat in silence for three full minutes, thinking. Her prize was a beautiful book full of pictures of all the mountains in Switzerland. It lay in her drawer, wrapped in tissue paper, and was the most precious thing she had.

Of course she could easily say no, and she knew the master would never force her to give it. But Grandmother had talked about perfect love. The Lord Jesus with his perfect love was living in her heart now, and He wouldn’t want her to keep anything back.

“All right,” said Annette at last. “Good,” replied the schoolmaster, and there was a look of triumph in his eyes because in those three minutes he knew that Annette had won a very big battle. “You shall bring it to me when school begins, and I will present it to him in class, and the children shall see his carvings.”

“Very well,” said Annette. She looked up shyly into his face to see if he thought her very, very wicked. But he only smiled down at her, and she went away knowing quite well that the old man loved her just as much as he did before.

Back up the hill the empty mule cart bumped and jolted over the snow. Home again, Annette climbed the steps and stood on the veranda, and Dani came and stood beside her with his arms full of kittens. Behind her, Grandmother was cooking the dinner, and in front of her the sun had reached the valley.

“This morning the valley was full of shadows,” thought Annette to herself, “and now it’s full of sunshine.” She knew it was like the Lord Jesus coming into her heart and filling her with love and light and courage.

L
ucien climbed the hill with a light step, and Annette walked by his side. They had never walked home from school together before, but now it was different.

It had been a very happy morning for Lucien. The schoolmaster, without explaining why, had suddenly said that he had seen such a good piece of wood carving over the holidays that he had decided to award another prize. To everyone’s astonishment Lucien had been called out to receive it. Annette had expected the schoolmaster to tell the whole story, so she almost fainted with relief when he said nothing about it. Then all the children gathered around to admire the little wooden animals, and freckle-faced Pierre had admired them louder than anyone else, remarking cheerfully that it was lucky for him they were turned in so late or he would never have won the prize. Everyone agreed.

They all wanted to see Lucien’s book, and the girls cried out, “Why, it’s just the same as Annette’s book” – and Annette waited uncomfortably for him to say, “It is Annette’s book.”

But Lucien only replied, “Is it really?” And when no one was looking, he winked at Annette.

When they were well out of sight of the other children, he held it out to her.

“It was nice getting a prize after all,” he said, “but I don’t want to keep it. Truly I don’t, Annette. It’s your book, and I should hate to take it away from you.”

Annette shook her head. “No, you’ve got to keep it,” she said. “It’s your book now.”

“Well,” said Lucien, “it really belongs to both of us, so I think we’d better share it. Suppose I have it this month and you have it next month, then me the month after that?”

Annette brightened up. She really wanted her book very badly.

“All right,” she replied. “On the first day of every month we’ll change.”

“Let’s sit down on this woodpile and look at it together,” said Lucien. They brushed the snow away from the logs and sat down and turned the pages, for Lucien had never seen it before. He was keen on mountains and often studied guidebooks, and now he pointed out to Annette the different ways of climbing them.

They sat there for a long time with the hot midday sun beating down on them and the powder-blue sky behind the white peaks. It was such fun looking at the pictures that they forgot about being late for dinner, until a little voice quite close to them said, “Annette, Granny said I should come and meet you. Dinner’s been ready a long time, and I’ve finished mine.”

It was Dani, leaning heavily on his crutches, looking flushed and tired. Annette jumped guiltily off the woodpile.

“Dani,” she cried, “you mustn’t come so far down the mountain. You’ll never get back. We must go home at once.”

They started slowly up the road, but Dani was very tired.

He had never been so far alone on his crutches before, but he had kept thinking he would see his sister around the very next corner and had hobbled on. In the end Lucien picked him up and carried him, and Annette carried the crutches.

Lucien carried him right to the door of the chalet, but nobody spoke. A sort of shadow seemed to have come between Lucien and Annette because both were thinking that however much they made up their quarrel Dani was still lame and nothing would give him back his legs.

“My leg aches so,” said Dani as Annette carried him up the steps. “Put me on my bed, ’Nette.”

So Annette laid him on his bed and gave him all his cats to play with, and she sat down and ate her bowl of cold potato soup. Papa had gone back to his work, and Grandmother, after scolding her for being so late, went to the kitchen where Annette soon joined her. Grandmother was standing at the table skimming rich cream from bowls of milk, and Annette started to help her.

“What is the matter, Annette?” asked Grandmother suddenly. “You look unhappy.”

Annette didn’t answer for a long time. Then she said, “Grandmother, you said that if I asked Jesus to come into my heart He would make me fond of Lucien, and last week it was all right. But now when I see Dani with his leg hurting so, and remember he used to be so strong, all the bad thoughts come back again.”

“Yes,” said Grandmother, “I expect they do. Every day of your life, ugly, angry, selfish thoughts will knock at the door and try to get in again. Don’t try and push them back yourself. Ask Jesus to help you by filling you with His love. Read about the love of the Lord Jesus every day in your Bible. If you keep your heart full of it, there just won’t be room for those bad thoughts to stay.”

“Where in the Bible especially?” asked Annette.

“All through the Bible,” answered Grandmother. “Read carefully to yourself all the story of the life of Jesus, and think about the way He loved all kinds of people, and remember that it’s that same love that came into your heart when you asked Him to come in.”

“Yes,” answered Annette, and to herself she thought, “I’ll start today, and every morning when I wake up, I’ll read a story about how Jesus loved someone.”

Lucien had gone home to his chalet, also thinking. The sight of Dani so tired made him sad. It was all very well for Annette—she had made up for the wrong things she had done and had put it right. But he could
never
make Dani’s legs right.

“Why had Annette forgiven him and been so different?” he wondered for the hundredth time. At first he had thought it was just because he had found her in the snow, but now he knew it was more than that. She had talked about opening a door to Jesus, and Grandmother had said something about the love of Jesus turning out selfishness and unkindness. The old man up the mountain had talked about mercy and forgiveness, too.

Anyhow, opening the door had made a very great difference to Annette. She used to be so proud and unforgiving. Now she was quite humble and kind. It made Lucien think that Jesus was not just someone who lived a long time ago in Bible stories, but someone who really could do things now.

He had been walking slowly, but he had nearly reached the chalet. Twenty minutes before, when he and Annette had sat down on the woodpile, the sky had been blue and still. But now large clouds were massing up behind the mountains, and a cold wind had begun to blow.

“It’s blowing up for snow,” said Lucien to himself. “There’ll be a blizzard tonight.”

The cows were stamping restlessly in their stalls at the sound of the wind that had sprung up. Lucien went indoors quickly and joined his mother, who was already eating dinner.

“Come along,” said his mother. “You’re late. I’m glad you’ve no afternoon school because it’s clouding over and I think we are in for a blizzard. What’s that book you’ve got there?”

“It’s a prize,” replied Lucien. “The schoolmaster gave it me for carving. He saw something I did over the holidays.”

“Well, that was nice of him,” said his mother. “Did he know about the other one being smashed?”