Sir William sat at his desk toying with a quill pen. He had no pleasure in what he was about to do.
Three servants stood before him. Two had served his household faithfully for many years. The younger one was a more recent addition. Even so, Sir William wanted to treat him decently.
“As you may have heard,” he began with a small cough, “I have sold my house and the whole Haversham estate. My family and I are emigrating to America. Good land and plenty is available in New England.”
Sam Goodall, the head gardener, spoke up. “We wish you well in your new venture, sir.”
“Thank you,” Sir William acknowledged. “Um unfortunately there’s a problem. The new owner will be keeping on many of our servants, but I’m sorry that he wishes to replace you, Goodall, with his own head gardener.”
He hated to see the troubled frown appear on Sam’s honest face.
“And, I regret to say,” Sir William added, looking at the plump woman next to Sam, “his own cook too.”
The woman’s face crumpled. “Oh, sir!”
“Don’t worry, Mrs Prosser,” her master said kindly, “I do not intend to leave any of you destitute.”
He addressed the third servant, a big lump of a lad with a sullen face. “Nor you, Tyler, despite hearing from the head groom that you’ve been shirking your stable duties.”
That evening, as Sam Goodall sat by the fire in his tied cottage, he poured out the account of his dismissal to his wife.
“Oh, God help us!” Molly began to sob. “We’ll lose our home and all.”
Taking a leather pouch from his jacket pocket, Sam said, “At least Sir William have provided somethin’ for us, but I’ve no idea how much.”
Emptying the jingling contents of the bag onto the table his jaw dropped open. Molly gasped. Together they counted the shiny coins.
“My, oh my! There’s enough here to buy us a nice little place!”
Molly began to cry again, this time in joy and amazement. “T’is the provision of our Heavenly Father,” she smiled through her tears.
In another small cottage on the estate, the widowed Mrs Prosser and her sister were doing a similar thing. Counting their money. In astonishment and delight at Sir William’s generosity, they chatted happily about how they could use their gift.
But in Ned Tyler’s village home, there was no celebration. The boy slammed his single coin down on the kitchen table. “Only one guinea! The old miser! Why, he gave the others bags full o’ money. T’aint fair!”
“A whole guinea!” exclaimed his careworn mother. “That ain’t to be sniffed at, son. I can think of a dozen ways I’d make use of it. You might ‘ave lost your job, but you could start up a small trade or summat for yerself.” “Like what?”
“Well, you ain’t bad at woodcarving. Little animals an’ that. Could sell ‘em at market.”
“Pooh! Wouldn’t bring in enough to feed a pig,” scowled Ned. “I’ll put it by and think on it.” He shoved the coin in his pocket and stumped off upstairs.
Two years later, Sir William returned to England for a few weeks on business. To his delight he discovered that the Goodalls had bought a small house with land attached. Sam had set up a successful market garden, supplying local shops and markets with his top quality fruit and vegetables.
“You’ve done well,” Sir William smiled. “So here’s a small reward for your enterprise.”
He gave the grateful gardener another bag of coins, smaller than the first, but still a generous gift.
Then he rode his horse into town and found Mrs Prosser and her sister running a thriving bakery shop. “Congratulations, ladies! I hear your meat pies and lardy cakes are very popular.” Again, he rewarded them with a little extra money.
Lastly he visited the Tylers cottage.
“Sorry, my boy ain’t home, sir,” Ned’s mother mumbled. “Helps down the pub most days.”
“I see. Tell me, how did Ned use his guinea?”
“Oh, sir, he lost it.” The woman hung her head in shame. “Betting on them cursed horses. Backed a bad ’un.”
Sir William turned pale. “I’m too disappointed for words.”
With a flick of the reins he rode away.
Whether great or small, all God’s blessings are precious. “Every good gift.....is from above and comes down from the Father of lights.” James 1:17 NKJV.