Australian Tales - Setis

lost one or two customers soon after she began business, through her
firmness in refusing to open her shop door on Sundays; but she gained
many others, who respected her consistency; and, what was better still,
she had the consciousness that she acted uprightly, and she had faith in
the promise of the God of the widow and fatherless, that, “He would
never leave them nor forsake them.”
If my readers have patience to follow my simple story, they may learn
how Widow Giles got her nice little grocery shop.
Peter Giles, her late husband, was a joiner, and a very good hand at his
trade. He worked for one of the best masters in Sydney, and always got
full wages. But Peter never saved money, and friends often wondered
why he could not do so, for his wife was a very thrifty body, and he was
by no means an idler or a drunkard. The fact of the matter was, Peter had
never studied that fundamental principle of domestic economy — viz.,
“taking care of the pence.” He would have shrunk at wasting a pound,
but pennies were of little value in his eyes, and he recklessly parted with
small sums, which in the aggregate represented a tolerably large sum at
the year's end. For instance — he usually spent three or four “threepenny
bits” every day, for beer; and on Saturday nights he thought he was
moderate in allowing himself two shillings or half-a-crown to “stand
treat” to his shop-mates. Still, he never got drunk; he would have scouted
the idea of thus disgracing himself in the eyes of his family and his
neighbours. Then he liked good clothes for Sunday wear, and he would
have the best tools; but he had not an economical way of buying them,
for instead of saving his small money until he had sufficient to buy what
he needed, he generally bought on credit, and paid by instalments; thus
he doubtless paid a higher price than he otherwise would have done. To
describe his character in the briefest manner, he was not a thoughtful or a
provident man, though he was an affectionate husband, and an indulgent
father.
On the afternoon of a public holiday some years ago, Peter was sitting
on a form in Hyde Park, watching his children, who were sporting about
on the green sward, when an old gentleman seated himself on the same
form to rest, for he looked weary. Presently little Bobby Giles ran up to
the stranger, and, child-like, began to play with his walking-stick, which
had rather an attractive top to it.
“Bobby, come here, sir,” said his father; “you mustn't be rude.”
“Let him alone, sir, if you please,” said the gentleman, kindly. At the
same time, he produced a few lollipops from his coat pocket, and gave to
the curly headed little fellow, who soon proved that he liked lollipops.
Then the gentleman asked Peter how many children he had.
“I have five, sir — these four, and a baby at home with its mother.”
“May I ask if you have made any provision for the poor little things if
it should please God to take you from them?” said the gentleman, after a