"Oh, oh!" said Belle.
She did not say it as if she were pleased; on the contrary, the tone had in it some pain and a good deal of fear. And that was not to be wondered at; for Belle was half-way up a stone-fence—that fence which divided Mrs. Ashton's garden from the ball-ground where Mr. Peters' boys played; and a large stone had slipped and hurt her foot, and the wall felt shaky and very much as if it might give still more.
There she stood, all crouched together, clinging to the topmost stones with her small hands, and afraid to go up or down lest the whole fence should fall on her.
"Oh, o-o-o-oh!" said she again, but not loud; for there were boys at play just beyond the wall, and, if they heard her, Harry and Fred Bradford would come and lift her down and take her to the house, and Miss Ashton and Mrs. Bradford would know how disobedient she had been.
For Belle remembered quite well that she and Bessie had been forbidden to go near this fence and watch the boys at their play; for both ladies feared that the balls might come over the wall and strike the little girls and hurt them. And, more than this, Mrs. Bradford had told her she must not go out of doors with those thin shoes on. So when Belle had made up her mind to disobey her kind friends, and to go near the ball-ground in spite of the orders she had received, she had not dared to ask Miss Ashton to change her shoes, or put on her cloak and hat for her, lest she should be asked where she was going. But after waiting till the lady was busy with Maggie's music-lesson, she had run out in the little prunella gaiters which were fit only for the house, and with her cloak half fastened, for she could not put it on properly herself. Now the damp, cold air was blowing about her, and making her feel very chilly and uncomfortable.
She had not told herself that she was going to be disobedient; but had said that she would just run down to the field, and peep over the fence at the boys. When she came there, however, the fence was quite too high for her to look over, and, remembering the clump of evergreen bushes which was just beyond, she thought she would climb to the top of the wall and sit there, herself hidden by the bushes, while she could see the boys quite well. That old summer-house would hide her from the house.
So Belle had thought, saying to herself, "Aunt Margaret"—so she called Mrs. Bradford—"did not know it was very safe behind the bushes, and the balls cannot hit me there. I guess she would let me if she knew."
Something kept saying to her, "Oh no, Belle! you know Aunt Margaret would not let you. You are very naughty, little Belle. What would your papa say if he knew what you were doing?" But she would not listen.
Ah! if Belle were so sure Mrs. Bradford would let her do this, why was she so afraid of being seen?
She was already sadly punished, for she now found that the bushes which hid her from the boys also hid them from her. She could hear their voices very well, and knew that they would hear her if she cried aloud; but she could not see one of them. And that stone had hurt her foot, oh, so badly! and there she was, afraid to move either way.
But it would not do for her to be found there; and at last she slipped down from the wall, and ran as fast as she could into the old summer-house. There she climbed up on the seat, and prepared to look at the foot that was hurt.
Very slowly and carefully, for fear of knotting the lace, she unfastened her shoe and pulled it off. Next the little sock was removed, and Belle turned up her small foot so that she might see the heel.
"Ow, ow!" she said when she saw it. "There's a great piece of skin off it. Ow, ow!"
She had almost forgotten the pain in her foot while she was running from the forbidden spot; but now, when she saw how badly it looked, it seemed to feel a good deal worse. She sat and gazed at it for some moments, and then, taking up her sock, she looked in it, turned it inside out, and shook it. Next she shook out her shoe, and felt all around the inside with her hand; next she looked all about the planked floor of the summer-house.
"Why! where has that skin gone to?" she exclaimed.
But although she had not found that for which she was looking, she found something else—something very bad indeed. Belle thought it worse even than that ugly graze upon her foot. There was a great hole in her sock; and, worse and worse, another—a jagged tear—in the little gaiter! She took up the shoe and the sock again, and sat with one in each hand, looking at them with a very sober face.
"There now!" she said at last. "I disobeyed my Aunt Margaret fee things. I came out with these shoes on, that's one; I came down to the ball-ground, that's two; and I climbed the fence, that's fee. She didn't tell me don't climb the fence, but I guess I knew she didn't want me too; so I'm 'fraid it was a disobey. Now I'll have to go and tell her, and then she'll look sorry at me; and I think perhaps she'll punish me, and perhaps papa will know it. Oh dear! I wish I hadn't, I wish I hadn't!" and Belle began to cry.
By and by she stopped crying, wiped her eyes, and began to put on her shoe and stocking. They had come off easily enough; but to put them on was another thing. At last the sock was pulled on after a fashion, all one-sided, and half an inch beyond her toes, for Belle was not used to dressing herself. But, do what she would, she could not put on the shoe. She pulled and pulled till she was quite red in the face, but all in vain; and at last she gave an impatient scream and threw the shoe from her.
"Bad old thing!" she said, and sat a moment frowning at it. But the shoe did not mind being looked cross at, at all; and presently Belle sprang to her feet, and went and picked it up, feeling rather ashamed.
"I am going to Miss Ashton," she said; "and she'll ask me where I went, and I'll tell her."
But just then she heard Bessie's voice. She had quite forgotten that the half-hour for the music-lesson must have gone by, and that it must be time to go home; and there was Bessie running down the garden path and calling to her.
"Belle, Belle! where are you, Belle?"
Bessie had not come to school that morning, for the weather had been so damp that her mother had not thought it safe for her to go out; but as it had cleared up before Jane went for the other children, she had given her leave to go with the nurse.
But, when they came to the school, Belle was not to be found; and some one saying she had been seen to run out in the garden, Bessie went in search of her, while Jane put on Maggie's things.
"Here I am, Bessie," said Belle, putting her head out of the summer-house.
Bessie ran to her, and great was her astonishment when she saw Belle standing there with her sacque all awry and half-buttoned, and her shoe held in her hand.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"Oh, I was naughty!" said Belle. "I went and climbed up on the wall where your mamma told us not to go; and a great ugly stone hurt my foot, and tore my shoe and stocking, and oh, Bessie! I can't find the skin."
She showed Bessie the hurt foot, and then a new search was commenced for the missing piece of skin; but it was all in vain, and after much wonderment as to what could have come of it, Bessie begged Belle to come at once to the house.
"For Jane must have Maggie ready," she said; "and you will take cold barefeeted, Belle. We must go right home and tell mamma."
The garden-path was planked, like the summer-house floor, about half-way up to the house; and Belle went on pretty well over the smooth boards, which did not hurt the little stocking-foot, but when she came to the gravel walks it was not so easy. There the pebbles hurt; and she limped and hopped along till she came to the back stoop, where Miss Ashton and Jane met her, full of alarm at the state in which they found her.
Miss Ashton did not scold, but she looked very much grieved at Belle's disobedience; and she told Jane she must take her home as fast as possible, so that the hurt foot might be attended to, and something be given to her which might prevent her from taking cold.
As for putting on the walking shoe, or even the cut gaiter, that was quite out of the question. Miss Ashton rolled a soft handkerchief around the foot; and, wrapping a shawl over that, Jane took Belle in her arms, and hurried home as fast as Bessie's little feet could keep pace with her. But if Miss Ashton had not much to say, Jane found enough.
"To think of your doing such a thing, Miss Belle!" she said; "to be so naughty, and hurt yourself, and maybe make yourself sick, and give so much trouble to Mrs. Bradford. Now she'll be so worried, and that's very bad for her. You know she was worse the other day when Frankie fell down and cut his head."
"But that was most entirely your fault, Jane," said Maggie: "you ran in very suddenly, and screamed to mamma that Frankie was most killed; and papa said it gave her a shock, and people ought to tell her things quietly and gently, so as not to frighten her."
"I don't know what she'll say when I tell her," said Jane, "and your papa away, and all."
"You shan't tell her," said Belle. "I'll tell her myself."
"Yes," said Bessie. "It's best for Belle to tell mamma herself, Janey; and I will help her. I have thought how we can tell her in a manner that is not at all shocking, and she would rather we would tell her of ourselves when we have been naughty."
When they reached home, Jane carried Belle to the head of the stairs, where she put her down; and the three little girls arranged their plan for telling mamma.
Belle took off her hat, and putting the little gaiter, which she still held in her hand, in the hollow of the crown, held the hat against her bosom with both arms, so that the shoe was quite hidden. She, as well as the other two, wanted Mrs. Bradford to question them before she saw the shoe or the foot. It was not that they wished to keep anything back from her, but they feared to tell her too suddenly.
They all wished it was over, especially Belle; and the young faces were by no means as bright as they usually were, when they ran into mamma's room on their daily return from school. Belle kept behind the others until she came close to Mrs. Bradford, when, without putting up her face for the kiss which generally welcomed her, she sat down on a stool at the lady's side, still keeping her bandaged foot carefully out of sight.
Mrs. Bradford did not speak to her, or tell her to come and kiss her, as Belle half hoped, half feared she would do. She kept on with her work with a very grave face, and that work was a pretty little sacque, like some owned by Maggie and Bessie, which she was embroidering for Belle. The child knew it was for her; and she had been disobeying that dear, kind friend! She seemed to feel how naughty and ungrateful she had been, even more than she had done before.
"She looks as sorry as if she knew," said Belle to herself; "but then she can't know yet. No one saw me do it but God, and He never tells about people; but I guess He's pretty sorry too, 'cause I was so naughty. Maybe He won't be so sorry with me if I tell Aunt Margaret pretty quick. I'll just do it, if Bessie don't make haste."
Bessie was just preparing to tell her story; but, in order not to shock her mamma, she came to it in rather a roundabout way, not at all like her usual fashion of telling things. Sitting down upon the rug at Belle's side, she said, in a grave tone,—
"Mamma, Belle and Maggie and I have found out something to-day."
"Have you, dear?" said mamma very soberly, but she did not ask what it was, as Belle had hoped she would. It would make the confession so much easier, she thought, if Aunt Margaret would only question them a little; but she did not seem inclined to do so. And there was the cut shoe beneath the hat, which Belle had now allowed to slip carefully down into her lap, keeping both hands pressed on it, as if she feared it would jump out of its own accord and show itself before the proper time.
"Yes'm," said Bessie, in reply to her mother: "it; is something we did not know about before."
This time there was no answer; but Belle thought Mrs. Bradford looked at her as if she expected she would speak for herself, instead of letting Bessie do it for her. She shrugged up her shoulders, wriggled herself about on her seat, and felt more and more uncomfortable.
Bessie waited a moment, and then spoke again.
"We've found out the colour of the inside of people's heels, mamma," she said; while Belle looked with a very innocent air into the fire. Bessie went on, "Least we've found out the colour of Belle's, and I s'pose all people's are the same. It's a nice colour: it's pink."
"How did you find that out, dear?" asked mamma.
"Belle's foot is peeled, and we saw the inside of it. But, mamma, we couldn't find the skin."
"How did the skin come off your foot, Belle?" asked Mrs. Bradford, trying not to smile, and speaking for the first time to the little culprit, while Aunt Bessie, who sat by, turned her face aside.
"'Cause a big hole came in my stocking, ma'am," answered Belle.
"How was that? It was a very good little stocking when it was put on this morning."
"'Cause a big, larger hole came in my shoe, and it went foo and foo."
"But it was a very good shoe too, quite new," answered Mrs. Bradford. "How did a hole come in it already?"
"A stone came on it, Aunt Margaret; but—Aunt Margaret—I'm 'fraid it came on it 'cause I was naughty. I disobeyed you fee times, Aunt Margaret;" and Belle's voice had a piteous tone in it, as if she were about to burst into a cry again.
"And does my little Belle want to tell me all about it?" asked Mrs. Bradford, throwing down her work, and holding out her arms to the child.
Belle let hat and shoe slip to the ground, and in another moment had scrambled into Mrs. Bradford's lap. Ah, what a comfort it was to feel about her those kind arms, whose dear, loving clasp reminded her of those of her lost mamma! and to nestle her head against Aunt Margaret's shoulder, while she confessed with many a penitent sob how naughty she had been.
"I s'pose you'll have to punish me pretty much: won't you, Aunt Margaret?" said Belle, when her story was finished.
"My poor little girl, I'm afraid you have punished yourself more than I should," said Mrs. Bradford.
"Oh no, Aunt Margaret! I did not punish myself one bit. I did not go in the closet for a single moment," said Belle.
While Belle had been talking, Mrs. Bradford had taken off the bandage, and was looking at the little grazed foot. She still held it tenderly in her hand when the child said these last words.
"You have punished yourself without going in the closet," she said. "This poor little foot must have some salve on it, and be bound up; and you cannot wear a shoe for several days, lest it should be rubbed. So you will have to stay in the house and not go out at all.
"And, Belle," Mrs. Bradford went on more slowly now, "a telegram came from your father a short time ago, saying that he would be here to-night, and begging me to send you to the railroad depôt to meet him; but it will be late, and I am afraid to let you go out even in a carriage, after you have run so much risk of taking cold. He will have to be disappointed, my little girl; and I fear he will be sorry when he sees your foot, and hears how it was hurt."
Now, indeed, Belle felt that she was punished for her disobedience. The delight of having her father back again was almost lost sight of in her distress at not being able to go and meet him, and the thought that he would know how naughty she had been.
Mrs. Bradford put her on the sofa, and brought some salve and soft linen, and bound up the foot, after which Belle was carried down-stairs, so that she might have her dinner with the other children. But she could not eat; the thought of her father and his disappointment brought a great lump in her throat; and, though she tried hard not to cry, the tears would find their way out and roll down her cheeks. Maggie and Bessie did their best to console her, but all in vain; and when, at last, they went out for their walk, which mamma would not allow them to omit, they left her on the Library sofa in a very mournful state.
"If papa wouldn't look sorry, I wouldn't care so very much," said Belle, as Mrs. Bradford tried to comfort her. "I promised him to be good all the time, and I went and was naughty just when he was coming back."
"I am very sorry for you, dear," said Mrs. Bradford; "but I shall tell your papa you have been a good girl all the rest of the time; and this will help you to remember that your older friends know best."
"Yes'm," sobbed Belle. "But, Aunt Margaret, I don't thinkmyselfgave myself such a great, large punishment as this. I don't think I could do it. I guess God did it, 'cause He knew I deserved it, for disobeying you so. Maybe He thought I wouldn't tell you, and you wouldn't know to punish me, so He better do it. I forgot He saw me, till my foot was hurt, and I was 'fraid on the fence."
"Yes," said Mrs. Bradford; "I think you are right, and that our Father in heaven meant to give His little girl a lesson. What lesson has my Belle learned this morning?"
"To mind you, my wise friend," said Belle.
"Yes; and what else?"
The child thought a moment, and then said, "That He sees me ev'ry day, and is sorry with me when I'm naughty. But, Aunt Margaret, what made you look so sorry at me, as if you knew, before I told you."
"I did know, Belle."
"Why, how? Did God tell you?"
"Aunt Bessie was coming along the street on the other side of the ball-ground, and she saw a little figure on the top of the fence; and she knew who it was, and felt frightened lest you should fall and be hurt; for she was too far away to be of any help. But God took care of the little girl who did not care for herself, and let her come down off the fence without being killed as she might have been. Aunt Bessie saw that you had come down safely, and then she came here and told me about it. She did not know that you were hurt, nor did I; and I felt anxious to know if you would come and confess your fault, and though I am sorry that you were disobedient, I do not feel half as badly as I should have done if you had tried to hide it."
"I'd have told you quicker, Aunt Margaret, only we were afraid you'd be too shocked, and Bessie made up that way to tell you."
"You were very considerate," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling as she remembered Bessie's roundabout fashion of bringing out her story.
Belle sat still with a grave face for a few moments, thinking of what her kind friend had said.
"Aunt Margaret," she then began, "God took good care ofme; but He did not take very good care of my foot, did He?"
"Yes, Belle; this little foot might have been so crushed by that stone that you never would have been able to walk again; but God watched over it, and only let it be hurt enough to remind it not to run into naughty, disobedient ways. He has been very good to you, dear."
Just then, Patrick came to say some visitors were in the other room; and Mrs. Bradford, giving Belle a picture-book, told her to amuse herself with it till she came back.
Belle sat still for a few moments after Mrs. Bradford left her, not looking at the pictures, but thinking of her own naughtiness; and at last she said aloud,—
"I guess if God took so much trouble to punish me just enough to make me remember, and not enough to make me a lame girl all my life, I'd better punish myself a little too."
Belle sometimes punished herself when she knew she had been naughty, and her way of doing this was to shut herself up in the closet.
There was one which opened out of the library. It was not dark, but the little window which lighted it was high up in the wall, so that she could not see out; and there was nothing there to amuse her, for it was hung around with overcoats and hats, so that it was really disagreeable to her to shut herself up there, as she had done more than once since she had been at Mrs. Bradford's.
She slipped down from the sofa, and went into the closet, where she pulled the door to, and sat down upon the floor, still thinking how sorry papa would look. But presently she felt tired, and, looking around her, she saw a carriage-robe lying in the corner. She rolled up one end of this for a pillow, and curled herself up upon it; and there, a few moments later, Mrs. Bradford found her fast asleep. She called Jane, and had Belle carried to her crib, feeling very thankful that the little girl truly repented of her fault; for she saw she was quite in earnest about punishing herself. Belle took a long nap, and the children had been home some time. She awoke, and it was then nearly time for her papa to come. When at last he arrived, he did indeed look grieved to see the hurt foot, and hear how it had happened, but he was glad she had not tried to hide it.
"But, papa," said Belle, when she had finished her confession, "Bessie and I could not find that skin. I wonder what did become of it."
The children were all three greatly puzzled and disturbed at the disappearance of the piece of skin which had been scraped from Belle's foot; and late that night, when mamma was herself going to bed, and went to give her birdies a last kiss, Bessie roused a little as her mother leaned over her, and murmured sleepily,—
"I wonder what did become of Belle's skin."
It was recess; and Bessie stood at the back schoolroom window, watching her brothers and the rest of Mr. Peters' boys at play. Four of the older girls were in the room, two of them standing by the fire talking; while the others, namely Kate Maynard and Fanny Berry, were at their desks, each preparing a neglected lesson. Their French master came at half-past twelve, and they were now in a great hurry to finish the exercises which should have been ready the night before.
"There!" said Kate, throwing down her pen and shutting her exercise-book with an energetic slap upon the cover, "I am through. How about you, Fanny?"
Fanny looked up at the little clock which stood upon the mantelpiece, and shook her head despairingly.
"No," she said, "and I shall not be able to finish. I am not half as quick as you, Kate. It is twenty minutes past twelve, and old Gaufrau will be here in ten minutes. Oh, if I had but ten more, I would do it! He threatened to complain of me to Mrs. Ashton next time I was not ready for him. It's all the fault of that story-book you lent me, Julia Grafton: I sat the whole evening reading it, and quite forgot my exercise."
"Please do not blame me or the book," said Julia. "I did not ask you to borrow it, nor did the book request to be read, I imagine."
"Do stop talking, and write all you can," said Kate. "What's the good of wasting more time?"
"If I only had ten minutes more!" moaned Fanny again.
"If the clock were only slow, as it was the other day," said Mary Merton. "We need not tell Monsieur that it was not right, for he would never know; for he has no watch of his own, and always goes by this."
"Tell him it's too fast," said another.
"He'll be sure to suspect something when he sees Fanny scrambling through her exercise at that rate."
"He's used to see Fan doing that," laughed Julia Grafton, looking at Fanny, who, with a very distressed face, was writing away as fast as her pen could move, caring little for the many mistakes she was making, if she only had the exercise finished and handed in with the rest, so that she might escape the threatened complaint to Mrs. Ashton.
Poor Fanny! Indolent and procrastinating, loving her pleasure better than her duty, she was often in such troubles as this. Still, she was good-natured and obliging; and her schoolmates pitied and were fond of her, and were always ready to help her if they could.
"Do some one put the clock back," pleaded Fanny.
"To be sure," said Kate. "Why did not we think of that before? Monsieur will be nicely taken in."
"But suppose Mrs. Ashton finds it out?" said Julia.
"Mrs. Ashton will not suspect anything," said Mary, as Kate laid her hand upon the clock. "It has been wrong once: why not again?"
"Take care you do not injure it," said Julia uneasily. "I know Mr. Ashton gave that clock to his wife only a few days before he died. It was the last thing he ever gave her, and he placed it there on the mantelpiece; for which reason she leaves it here, though I rather wonder at her doing so."
While the others were speaking, Kate Maynard had taken down the clock; and Mary Merton opened it, and moved back the hands. As Kate went to replace it upon the mantelpiece, the voice of Mrs. Ashton speaking to the French professor, and his in reply, were heard in the hall. In her haste, Kate did not put the clock far enough back upon the shelf; it slipped between that and her hand, and fell upon the hearth. Strange to say, it did not fly in pieces, as all the girls expected would be the case; not even the glass over the face was cracked, for the clock fell upon its side, and as the terrified Kate raised it, it appeared unhurt. The next moment, however, as she put it in its proper place, a whirring sound was heard, then a sharp, short click, and the hands stood still.
Mrs. Ashton and Monsieur Gaufrau, hearing nothing of what was going on within, still stood talking in the hall; and the girls, including Fanny, who had quite forgotten her lesson, stood looking from one to another in guilty and alarmed silence.
Mary Merton was the first to break it.
"Thank fortune!" she exclaimed. "The thing does not look damaged; and no one need know how it happened, if we all keep our own secret. Oh, there's Bessie Bradford!" and Mary looked more frightened than she had done before, as she fixed her eyes on the child's shocked and astonished face; for she, as well as the others, had a feeling that no deceit or concealment was to be looked for from Bessie.
Until that moment, they had all forgotten the presence of the little girl, who now stood silent on the window-seat, her face turned towards the uneasy group, looking from one to another with an expression of mingled wonder, grief, and indignation, under which the most insensible among them felt herself abashed.
"O Mousie!" said Kate Maynard, who generally called Bessie by that pet name, "I had forgotten that you were there! Remember you are not to say a word. If you do, I will never forgive you."
There was no time for more, for the professor's step was heard approaching; and, as the girls suddenly scattered to different parts of the room, he opened the door and came in.
"Ah!" he said in French, after bidding them good morning and looking at the clock, "I see I am too early, and I am glad; for I have left at Mr. Peters' a book which I shall need, and I have yet time to return for it. Your pardon, young ladies." Then as he turned to go, and caught sight of Bessie, he smiled and came towards her. She was a great favourite with him, although she was not one of his scholars; for he had now and then met her in this room, and her polite and ladylike little ways were very pleasing to the ceremonious old Frenchman, who always made a point of bowing to her with his very best grace, which Bessie would return by giving him her mite of a hand to shake, and saying prettily, "Bon jour, Monsieur," as her mamma had taught her.
"Ah!" said Monsieur Gaufrau, changing from his own language to his broken English, for he knew that Bessie understood only a few words of the former, "Ah! you look sad,ma petite. What have you? you are trouble. These great demoiselles have tease you? Do not be sad of that; they do not mean nothing; it is but their joy. They are good of heart, but have not too much thought. Mademoiselle Maynard, you cannot make glad once more your little friend? I am of haste;" and, patting Bessie on the head, he waved his hand politely towards Kate, as if committing the little child to her care, and hurried away.
Bessie looked after the grey-haired and kind-hearted old gentleman as he went out and closed the door behind him, and then turned her eyes on Kate. Was Kate, of whom she had really grown very fond, going to carry on this deception? She had not time to speak, scarce even to collect her thoughts; for the next moment the young lady caught her up in her usual abrupt fashion, and seating her on her desk, placed herself before her, while the rest gathered hurriedly around.
Bessie knew that a struggle was before her, and somehow she felt that all these great girls were banded together against her. There was only time for a little wish, a half-breathed, upward thought; but it was heard and answered.
"Bessie," said Kate, in a low tone, "you are not to speak of this, or to let any one suppose that you knew of it, or were in the room. Do you understand?"
The child looked steadily at her, though her colour rose, and her breath came quickly, and she had—oh, such a longing to be safely home at the side of her own dear mamma!
"S'pose some one asks me?" she said.
Kate coloured in her turn, and hesitated.
"Say you don't know anything about it," said Mary Merton. "It is true enough: you don't. You had nothing to do with the clock."
"But Iknowabout it," answered Bessie; "I saw what did happen to it, and I heard that noise it made; and I know something pretty much is the matter with it. Once Fred threw his ball in our nursery, and it knocked down the clock, and it made just that noise, and was so spoiled papa had to buy another one. But Fred went right away and told papa," she added, as a hint to her hearers of the course she thought they ought to take.
"Telling one's papa is a different thing from telling Mrs. Ashton," said Mary. "She will be so furious if she finds out how it happened."
"Ah, that is it!" said Kate: "I would not hesitate a moment to tell her I had broken the clock; but how can I tell her how it came about?"
"And I shall get into trouble too," said Fanny, in her fretful tones. "Girls, what shall we do?"
"Do!" repeated Mary Merton. "There is but one thing to do, and that is to stand by one another. There are only four of us here, and none of us know anything about it—that is all. As for you, little tell-tale, if you have a word to say about it, remember that it is your friend Kate you will get into a peck of trouble."
"I'm not a tell-tale!" said Bessie indignantly, keeping down her temper with great difficulty. "I'm not a tell-tale; and if you don't want me to, I won't tell any one the clock is broken, not even my dear mamma, or my own Maggie. I s'pose I needn't when I didn't do it myself. But if Mrs. Ashton asks about it, I'll have to tell her."
"Why don't you run quick, and tell her all about it now?" sneered Mary. "You can get us all nicely punished, if you make a good story of it. Go, tell-tale, go!"
Bessie made no answer, but watched Kate's face anxiously.
"See here, Bessie," said Fanny: "promise us not to say a word about it, if Mrs. Ashton asks; and I will dress a beautiful doll for you."
Bessie shook her head resolutely.
"Do you think I'd tell a story for a doll?" she answered; and then, putting her arms round Kate's neck, she whispered, "I would help you if I could, Katie; but I couldn't make Jesus sorry even for you; and you won't do it, dear, will you? Please think about Him, Katie, and don't tell a wicked story. He will help you to be brave, if you ask Him."
None of the others heard what she said, but it was easy enough to guess that she was trying to persuade Kate to do right; and Fanny, for once roused to energy, exclaimed,—
"You'llhaveto stand by us, Kate; you can't tell your own share in the mischief without bringing in the rest, and you've no right to do it. And as for you, Bessie, if you bring us into any trouble with your nonsense, we'll keep you out of our room, and have nothing more to do with you. We won't have a mean little tell-tale here spying and reporting us."
But this, as well as many other threats and promises, proved of no avail Bessie could not be persuaded to say that she would tell an untruth, if she were asked about the clock; and the more steadfast she was, the more urgent grew the older girls.
"It is so, Bessie," sighed Kate, all her frolicsome spirits quite put to flight. "It is so; I cannot confess my own share without bringing in Fanny and Mary; and I don't know that that would be fair, even if I dared to tell of myself. But I tell you what we will do for you, if you promise faithfully—and I know you will keep your word—not to betray us. You are so anxious to have that hospital bed for your lame Jemmy. Promise to say what we all say, and we will all vote that you shall have that prize; and I will coax the four girls who are not here to do the same. They will do it for me."
Bessie knew that this was true, for Kate generally carried things her own way in her room. "Maggie, of course, will vote for you; so will Belle and Lily; and so no one else will have a chance, for that will be more than half the school, and you are sure of the prize. Quick! speak, Bessie! There is no time lose. Monsieur will be back in a moment."
"Think of the good you will do the lame boy," said Fanny; "and just by such a little—well, you can't call it even a 'fib,' for youdon'tknow much about the clock, you don't understand it, and you did not see it break. For all you know, it may be all right in a few moments."
"Then Mrs. Ashton won't ask about it, and I needn't speak," said Bessie.
"Pshaw! you always come back to the same point," said Mary. "None of us need speak, if Mrs. Ashton does not ask us, need we?"
"Yes," said Bessie. "Some one ought to speak now."
"And who'd be so mean, I'd like to know?" said Fanny.
Bessie had a feeling that the meanness lay elsewhere: first, in the deception practised upon the patient and polite old Frenchman; next, in the concealment of the mischief done from Mrs. Ashton. But she did not like to speak out all that was in her mind to these girls who were so much older, and might be supposed to be so much wiser than herself.
"Will you do this for lame Jemmy?" said Kate. "Make haste and tell us! There is no doubt of your gaining the prize for him, if we all promise you our votes, you know."
"You are very wicked and cruel if you do not," said Mary. "How can you ever look the poor fellow in the face again, and remember that you refused to give him a chance of being cured? For, if you will not do this little favour for us, you need not look for the votes from this room."
"We don't ask you to say what is not true," said Kate: "you have only to keep silence, if Mrs. Ashton speaks. There is nothing wrong in that. Indeed, it is only right for you to do so, when you will gain this great help for your lame friend."
Poor Bessie! It was the first time in all her little life that she had been even tempted to do or say what was not true; but this was a sore trial. She had thought so much of lame Jemmy, longed so to earn the prize for his sake; and now she was sure of it, if she would but—what?
Act a lie! or, at least, help to cover a shameful deception! Yes, it was that! She could not hide the truth from her own conscience. Kate told her that it was right; they were all trying to persuade her to do wrong, that good might come of it—trying to make her think that it was really her duty; and, for a moment, it did seem hard to decide what she ought to do.
But it was only for a moment. Bessie had watched and prayed that she might not enter into temptation; and she was not suffered to fall. Her honest, truthful little soul saw it all clearly. Helping Jemmy was not "God's work," if it led her into sin against Him, Truth first, before all things: tospeaktruth, toacttruth.
"There!" said Kate, as the child hesitated for that instant; "I thought you'd be a good child, and do as we wanted you to. She promises, girls!"
"No," said Bessie, with her colour coming and going, and pressing her little hands tightly together: "I can't, Miss Kate; not even for lame Jemmy—not even if you never love me any more, or speak to me again. It would not be true."
"It is not telling a story, I tell you," said Kate sharply, as she heard the rest of the class in the hall below, and knew that in another moment it would be too late.
"But it would bebehavinga story," said Bessie, "'cause it would be letting Mrs. Ashton believe I didn't know about it. I can't see why it is not just the same; and I know Jesus would be sorry to have me earn the prize for Jemmy that way."
"Go, then!" said Kate, suddenly lifting the child down from the desk, and placing her on her feet,—"go, then! you are no pet of mine after this: I want nothing more to do with you."
"That won't trouble her," said Mary, with a sneer. "A fine pretence of affection she has made for you, only to serve you in this way, Kate!"
"Bessie, your nurse is waiting for you," said Miss Laura Jones, who just then entered the room. "Why, what is the matter?" as she saw the little one's troubled face, and those of the older girls flushed and angry.
"The matter is, that here is a mean, hateful little tell-tale," said Fanny.
"Take care what you do before her, or she will run and tell Mrs. Ashton," said Mary.
Ah, how hard it was to keep back the angry words that were rising to her lips; not to tell those great girls what she thought ofthem!
"Why, how is this, my dears?" said Mrs. Ashton, coming in, and looking round in surprise. "I thought Monsieur Gaufrau was here."
"He did come in, ma'am," said Mary Merton demurely, and with an air of perfect innocence; "but he had forgotten a book, and thought he had time to go for it."
Mrs. Ashton looked at the clock, then took out her watch.
"The clock is too slow," she said. "No, it has stopped! That accounts for his mistake. I must really have it put in order."
Not a word was spoken. Bessie, quite forgetting in her anxiety that Jane was waiting for her, stood looking from one to another, as Mrs. Ashton examined the clock, touching it with a kind of reverent affection, but not one of those who were in the secret would meet the child's eye.
Maggie came in to see why Bessie did not come; and, feeling as if she could not part with Kate in such an angry mood, the little girl went up to her and slipped her hand in hers; but Kate pushed her from her, and Bessie turned away with a swelling heart.
Suddenly Julia Grafton, who had not spoken while the others were tempting Bessie, caught the child in her arms as she passed, and, kissing her warmly, whispered, "You are right, Bessie! I wish I were as brave as you."
Monsieur Gaufrau found his class unusually troublesome that morning. Julia and Kate, generally the two brightest and quickest of all his scholars, seemed now the most inattentive and dull; answering so at random, and appearing to pay so little heed to what they were doing and saying, as to make it very evident that their thoughts were taken up with something quite different from their lessons. As for luckless Fanny, her exercise was only half written, and full of mistakes; and she stumbled through the recitations in a disgraceful manner. Mary Merton could repeat her lessons; but her conduct was careless and defiant, and once, when the professor reproved her slightly, very impertinent.
The old gentleman's patience was quite at an end. Bad marks—sadly deserved, too—went down to the credit of all four; and the long-threatened complaint to Mrs. Ashton was made, including Mary as well as Fanny.
"Much any one has gained by that performance of to-day," said Julia Grafton, as she and her three guilty companions stood together at the corner of the square, after school was dismissed. "Fanny certainly is no better off, and here are three more of us in trouble through the worry and fuss of it."
"Why don't you preach a sermon on it, and take as a text, 'The way of transgressors is hard'?" said Mary Merton scornfully.
"And so she might with truth," said Kate. "I am sure we are finding it so."
"Dear me!" said Fanny; "if you think it such an awful sin just to move back the hands of the clock a little, what did you do it for?"
"Because Idid not think," said Kate sadly. "Oh, if I only had, I should never have done it! And now, how are we to get out of the difficulty? Why didn't I tell Mrs. Ashton at once?"
"I do not see where the difficulty is, if only Bessie Bradford does not betray us," said Mary. "Mrs. Ashton suspects nothing, and is not likely to ask any questions now. In spite of my fright, I could not help laughing to see those two complimenting one another,—Monsieur bowing and scraping, and assuring Mrs. Ashton that he was 'désolé' at being so late; and Madame, with her gracious air, excusing him, and blaming the poor clock. The only thing I am afraid of is that child."
"She has told it all at home by this time," said Fanny.
"Not she," said Kate. "She promised she wouldn't."
"'Promised!'" repeated Mary; "she only did that because she was afraid of us. I'll answer for it, she told the whole story the moment she was safely with Maggie and her nurse."
"'Afraid!'" repeated Julia in her turn; "I wish any one of us had one-half little Bessie's moral courage and simple honesty. We threatened her and tempted her,—and all of us who have seen how eager she is to earn that prize for the lame hoy know how great the temptation was,—but she could not be turned from the straightforward truth. She has shamed us all, girls!"
"Oh, it is very easy for you to talk, Julia Grafton," said Fanny. "You did not touch the clock, and had no hand in the mischief."
"No; or I should feel that I could go at once and tell Mrs. Ashton. As it is, I cannot."
"You would have norightto do it!" exclaimed Mary, with a look at Kate's downcast face. "It is share and share alike with us. If you choose to bring trouble on yourself, you would have no right to do it, on account of the rest."
"I do not say that I should do it," said Julia. "I have not so much courage as little Bessie. But it is not Mrs. Ashton I am afraid of."
"Of course not," said Mary; "you are a favourite with Mrs. Ashton. But what are you afraid of, if not of her?"
"Of the ridicule and anger of the rest," said Julia, colouring deeply. "You called Bessie hard names, and threatened to send her to Coventry. You would do the same by me, I suppose, if I do not help you out in this; and I cannot face it as she did, though I own I am ashamed of this cowardice. She felt it too, poor little thing! Kate, did you see her pleading look at you?"
"Yes," answered Kate. "Girls, I wish this day's work could be undone."
"Well, it can't," said Fanny; "and if you think Bessie is safe, I don't see why you fret about it."
"I'll tell you what it is," said Mary, "we must all bind ourselves by a solemn promise not to say a word about it, whether questions are asked or no. Yes I believe Bessie will keep her word, for we all know how squeamish she is. Mrs. Ashton will never suspect her, even if she remembers she was in the room; and the worst we have to fear is some kind of general inquiry, which can easily be passed over. Let us bind one another to silence."
It was done; Mary and Fanny giving their word for this with much energy, Julia more slowly, and Kate with a hesitation and unwillingness which provoked the ridicule of the two first; and then they parted, Mary and Fanny going one way, Kate and Julia another.
Meanwhile, Bessie had gone home with a heavy heart. Maggie and Jane both noticed how dull she was, but could not find out what ailed her; though the former seemed rather hurt that Bessie should have any secret from her.
Mrs. Bradford, too, saw that her little girl was not in her customary spirits; and when she found that she did not, as usual, give her an account of all that had passed in school that morning, she asked her if she were "in any trouble."
"Yes, mamma," said Bessie. "I have avery great weight on my mind, and it makes it worse because I can't tell you; but it is not my own secret, and so I s'pose it's not for me to talk about."
"You have not been doing anything wrong in school, dear?"
"No, mamma; I think not. I did want to do what was wrong for a moment, 'cause it seemed as if it would be a great help to a good thing; but I asked Jesus to help me to know what He would like me to do, and I think He did let me see it would not be His work if it came by a wicked way."
"But you are not sorry now, dear, that you were not suffered to do wrong that good might come of it?"
"No, mamma; I am very glad, and very much grateful; but I feel sorry about some other people. I think they fell into a very bad temptation, and did not try to get out of it."
"Well, I will not ask you any more, since you do not feel at liberty to speak about it," said Mrs. Bradford.
"I feel very badly not to tell you, mamma; but it was of accident that I was there and saw it, and I did not quite know what was the rightest thing to do where it was not my own secret. And there were a good many troubles about it, and they all came so fast, and it made a great trouble in my mind; and so maybe I made a mistake to say I would not tell you. But indeed, mamma, I did not mean to be naughty."
"I do not believe you did, my darling; and we will not say another word about it, except that you may always be sure that the safest rule is to have no secrets from your mother."
Mrs. Bradford could give a pretty good guess at the cause of Bessie's trouble, though not, of course, at the particulars. She knew that her little girl was a great pet and plaything of the elder scholars; and she saw plainly, from what Bessie had innocently said, that they were in some scrape into which they had tried to draw the child, or at least to make her hide it; and, also, that the little one's honest, truthful spirit had been shocked and grieved at the want of honour in her schoolmates. Bessie was thoughtful and out of spirits all day, and really dreaded the coming of school-time the next morning. But she would not ask her mother to let her stay at home, for she wanted to know for herself if any further trouble had arisen about the clock; and, more than this, the brave little soul had a feeling that, if she stayed away, the girls might think she did so to avoid any questions, and was afraid to tell the truth.
She wondered how Kate Maynard would meet her, and if she would really keep her threat of not speaking to her, or noticing her; and it was with a beating heart that she saw the young lady coming down the street as she and Maggie went up Mrs. Ashton's stoop the next morning.
But she found that Kate had forgotten her threat, or thought better of it; for she came up and met her as usual. No, not as usual either; for Kate's manner was half hesitating and constrained, as if she were doubtful of the greeting she should receive from Bessie. Her frolicsome spirits seemed to have flown away; and Maggie, looking up to the brilliant black eyes, wondered to see how they had lost their merry light.
Thoughtless and inconsiderate as she was, Kate Maynard was not accustomed to deceit and meanness, and they sat uneasily upon her conscience.
The children went to their schoolroom, Kate to hers; and both her eyes and Bessie's instantly sought the clock. It was gone!
Kate had the back room to herself just then, for those of her class who had arrived were gathered in the hall or cloak-room; and, refusing their invitations to join them, she wandered to the window and stood listlessly gazing out.
Bessie watched her for a moment through the open doors, and then, going up to her, touched her hand, and said, in a wistful, pleading tone,—
"Katie?"
There was an unspoken question in the one word, and Kate heard and felt it. But she had no answer for it, nor could she meet the clear, steadfast eyes that were raised to her face. She did not withdraw her hand from Bessie's; but neither did she seem to notice the child, and stood steadily gazing out of the window, but seeing nothing.
Bessie longed to say something, but she could not seem to find words for what was in her heart; and, while she hesitated, the other girls flocked in. Mrs. and Miss Ashton came too; the bell was rung, and all must go to their seats.
School was opened; but the folding-doors were not closed as usual, when this was over.
Rapping upon the table with a paper-folder, to call the attention of all in both the rooms, Mrs. Ashton began,—
"I have a few words to say before the business of the morning commences; but I would first ask if any one here has a confession to make to me?"
She paused for a few moments, while a dead silence reigned in both rooms. Five of the twenty girls gathered there knew well what she meant, but not a voice broke the stillness; while those who were ignorant looked from one to another in great astonishment.
Mrs. Ashton went on.
"Yesterday morning the clock, which usually stands upon that mantelpiece, was in good order. I wound and set it with my own hands; but at noon it was found to have stopped, thereby, as all of the older class are aware, misleading Monsieur Gaufrau, and making him late for his lesson. The clock had been wrong once before, and, not wishing it should be so again, I took it to the clockmaker. He examined it before I left the store, and said at once that it had been seriously injured—so seriously that it was doubtful if it could be repaired; and that these injuries had come from a fall or heavy blow, he thought the former; and that it was quite impossible that the hands, which had stopped at ten minutes past twelve, could have moved after the works had been so shattered. I must therefore believe that the injury was received at that time; and that, as some, if not all of you, were in the room, that there are those among you who know of it. Most of the little ones had gone home; I think all but Maggie and Bessie Bradford. Maggie was at her music-lesson; Bessie could not have reached the clock, and I think,"—she looked kindly at Bessie,—"I think if any harm had happened to it through her means, that she would have come at once and confessed it. Therefore we may put the little girls out of the question; but if any one among them knows anything and chooses to speak, she may do so, though I shall not compel her."
Bessie drew a long sigh of relief, and so did more than one of the elder girls.
Poor little child! She had so dreaded that Mrs. Ashton would ask her questions to which she felt that she must give a straightforward and plain answer; or that she would, at least, say something which would oblige her to speak, and own that she had been in the room and seen the accident.
And Bessie was as unwilling as any little girl could be to draw upon herself the ill-will of her schoolmates. She wanted to be loved by all about her; and, as you know, was an affectionate, clinging child, accustomed to be petted and treated with all tenderness. So her little heart had been very downcast at the thought of the cold looks and words, and unkind behaviour, which she feared would fall to her share if she should feel herself obliged to tell what she knew; and she was very grateful to Mrs. Ashton for sparing her from this.
The lady paused again, to give any one who chose to speak the opportunity to do so; but all were silent.
"I shall put the question to each of you in turn," said Mrs. Ashton, "trusting that none of you are so hardened as to tell a deliberate falsehood, however you may have reconciled your consciences to a deceitful silence. Ella Leroy, did you break the clock, or have you any knowledge of how it was done?"
Mrs. Ashton's manner was stern, and her tone severe, as they were apt to be when she was displeased; and all of the little girls felt thankful that they were not to be questioned. Maggie thought she could not possibly have answered as much as "No;" and it frightened her even to hear Mrs. Ashton's voice.
But Ella Leroy answered promptly,—
"No, ma'am."
"Bertha Stockton, do you?"
"No, ma'am."
"Mary Merton, do you?"
"No, ma'am," came, with equal readiness, from Mary's lips.
Bessie's heart beat fast, and for a moment her eyes fell, as though she herself had been the guilty one.
One or two more answered, with truth, that they knew nothing of the matter, and then,—
"Fanny Berry?" said Mrs. Ashton.
"No, ma'am," answered Fanny, but not as boldly as Mary had done; for she was not used to open falsehood, and it did not come readily to her. Mrs. Ashton looked steadily at her for a moment; then passed on to the next.
"Kate Maynard?"
To the astonishment of all, to the anger of some, and to the relief and delight of one little heart, Kate rose slowly, and answered, "Yes, ma'am."
"You know who did it?"
"I did it myself, madam."
Mrs. Ashton looked grieved, as well as surprised.
"You, Kate? and yet you kept silence when I asked for confession?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Kate steadily, yet not boldly or defiantly, after her usual manner of receiving reproof from her teachers; "and I am afraid I should still have kept silence, if you had not asked me so directly."
"I did not look for this from, you, Kate," said Mrs. Ashton slowly. "Heedless as I know you to be, I did not believe you capable of even an acted deceit."
Kate hung her head in shame, thinking that she not only would have been guilty of this herself, but that she had tried to draw an innocent young child into the same sin. But the little one had stood firmly to the right, refusing, in her own simple language, even to "behave a story." And the trial and temptation had been far greater in her case than in that of her older schoolmates. The last proof of her steadfastness had, happily for her, not been needed; but Kate knew well enough that neither would that have failed, had it been called for.
"How did it happen?" asked Mrs. Ashton.
"I had the clock in my hands," answered Kate, "and, as I went to put it in its place, it fell from them."
"And how came you to have the clock in your hands? What were you doing with it?"
"I wanted to put back the hands."
"And why, may I ask?" said Mrs. Ashton, in astonishment. "Did you imagine that I should not find that the clock was wrong?"
"I—we—I"—stammered Kate, fearing to betray the others who would not speak for themselves, and yet feeling that she could scarcely avoid doing so,—"I wanted Monsieur Gaufrau to be—to think he was too early, so as to gain a little more time before the French lesson."
"And one acted deceit thus led to another," said Mrs. Ashton. "It is generally the way. Your lessons were not ready, then, I take it; and you wisheddishonestly—yes,dishonestly, Kate—to gain more time to prepare them."
"My lessons for Monsieur Gaufrau were ready," said Kate, in a low voice.
"Then you have not even this poor excuse, but were guilty of this foolish deception merely that you might have a few minutes more for play and idle talk. You will remain and see me after school. Had any of the others any part in it?"
"Excuse me, madam," said Kate. "I have answered for myself. Allow the rest to do the same."
Bessie could hardly keep still. Pity for Kate,—for going to Mrs. Ashton after school seemed a very terrible thing to the little children, who were all rather in awe of the lady's grave, somewhat stern manner,—indignation at those who were allowing more than her own share of blame to fall on her, and the strong desire to come to her relief by telling what she knew, were almost too much for the little girl. But she could not break her promise to say nothing unless she were asked, and so felt obliged to hold her peace.
Mrs. Ashton passed on to the next.
"Julia Grafton, had you any hand in this?"
"I knew of it, ma'am; but I had nothing more than that to do with it."
"Julia forgets," said Kate quickly. "She tried to dissuade me from it, but I would not listen. She was not at all to blame, Mrs. Ashton."
Fanny could keep silence no longer; her better feelings mastered her shame and fear, and, rising, she stammered out, "I—I—Mrs. Ashton—it was me—my lesson—I was not ready—it was my fault—I suggested"—and here Fanny's voice was lost amid tears and sobs.
Bessie began to cry too; Maggie put her arms about her and joined in; and Belle and Lily each put up a grieved lip in sympathy. Miss Ashton, seeing the disturbed state of her little flock, rose hastily, and after whispering to her mother, closed the doors; and no more was heard of what passed in the other room.
Miss Ashton had wished from the first that the older girls should be examined without the knowledge of the little ones, but her mother had decided otherwise; and the great Teacher above had overruled her wish for His own purposes, for He had a little instrument of His own unconsciously working for Him, and leading a wavering heart into the ways of truth by the light of her own steady example.
But Miss Ashton, knowing nothing of this, was sorry that her lambs had heard so much; especially when she found that their minds were quite distracted, and that it was almost impossible to settle them to the business of the day. She had to overlook a good many things that morning.
She was all the more sorry when, as Maggie and Bessie were going down-stairs with Jane, on their way home, she heard the former say, "Bessie, I'm not going to say anything unkind about Mrs. Ashton; but when I say my prayers to-night, I'm just going to tell our Father how very thankful I am that He did not give her to me for my teacher. I'm very sure she'd bring down my hair with sorrow to the grave, if she was."
Bessie would have liked to have had a word or two with Kate during recess, but when she peeped into the other room, she saw all the rest of the girls gathered around her; and not caring to talk, or to be talked to by them, she ran away again without being noticed, and followed her sister down to the music-room.
The girls of the older class were all in a state of great excitement over the trouble of the morning. Some were anxious, some pitying, some saying that Mrs. Ashton was making a great fuss about a trifle. Fanny Berry, who had been weeping and sobbing at intervals through all the lesson-hours, was now drowned in a fresh flood of tears, and bewailing her hard fate in having to go to Mrs. Ashton "for a lecture" after school.
"And I suppose she'll complain to my father too," she moaned. "She has been saying she would do so the next time any of the masters reported me; and now she'll tell him this—the hateful old thing!—and he won't let me go to the birthday party at my aunt's. O Kate, why did you tell? You promised you would not—youpromised! Of course I could not let Mrs. Ashton go on giving you more than your own share of blame, and so I was forced to speak. It's just as Mary said it would be if any one told their own part. It must needs bring the rest into trouble; and after we two had denied it too! Yououghtto have stood by us."
"Were you in it too, Mary?" asked Ella Leroy; and she, as well as most of the others, looked at Mary in shocked surprise. To some of them it was no very great matter that the four who had had any share in the accident to the clock should shrink from confessing it, or even keep silence when Mrs. Ashton had asked who had done it; but a deliberate denial of their guilt was quite another thing. They deservedly blamed Fanny for her first falsehood; but they had the feeling that she had half redeemed her sin when she had, at the risk of such shame and mortification to herself, acknowledged that, and her former fault, rather than allow Kate to receive a more severe reproof than she merited. But Mary, who it seemed had been as much to blame as the others, had not even then been shamed into telling the truth, and had still let Mrs. Ashton believe her innocent.
She was heartily ashamed of it now; but she did not choose to let that be seen, and carried matters with a high hand, tossing her head and declaring thatshewas "not going to be such a fool as to get herself into difficulty just because Kate and Fanny chose to do it." She reproached Kate bitterly for breaking her promise, and so did Fanny; both saying that all would have been well if she had not done so.
"I am sorry," said Kate, taking their upbraidings with a meekness quite unusual in her. "I am very sorry for the punishment I have brought upon you, girls; but not sorry that I did not—tell a lie."
"You should have thought of that before," said Mary, "and not let Fanny and me tell what you so elegantly call alie, and then set yourself up for being so truthful."
"I do not set myself up for being truthful," said Kate, colouring deeply; "at least Ihavenot, but, with God's help, I will from this day," and she looked steadily into Mary's angry face. "I wish—oh, how I wish!—I had spoken when Mrs. Ashton asked the general question of the whole class, or that she had asked me first; and, even to the moment when she called my name, I meant to deny it—but I could not with Bessie Bradford's eyes upon me."
"Bessie Bradford! little Bessie! and what had she to do with it?" asked two or three of the girls.
"She had this much to do with it," said Kate, "that she was in the room yesterday when the clock was broken; and when we resolved to hide it, we tried to make her as deceitful as ourselves; but we tempted, threatened, and promised in vain.Shewas not to be frightened into wrong for fear of the consequences of doing right; and, as Julia said, she, baby as she is, shamed us all. Yes, shamedmeat least, and made me feel what a mean coward I was beside her."
"You are a coward, to be sure, if you are afraid of Bessie Bradford, or what she could do or say," said Mary, pretending to misunderstand Kate.
"I was not afraid of anything she would say or do," said Kate, not noticing the contemptuous tone; "but of what she would think of me, of losing her affection and respect. But"—she went on more slowly, as if half ashamed, yet determined to speak out—"that was not all I was afraid of."
"What else, then?" asked Mary,
"Of offending Bessie's Master," said Kate.
She felt it was a bold avowal to make in the presence of all her classmates—for her who had always been so reckless and careless, sometimes even irreverent; but she said it, and that with a gravity which showed she meant it, and that it was no light feeling which had called it forth.
It was received in astonished silence by the rest. Words like these were so new from Kate, and there was no need for any one of them to ask what Master Bessie served. The daily life of the little child showed to all about her whose work she delighted to do in her own simple way, which knew no other rule than what would be pleasing and true to Him.
"But, Kate," said Ella presently, "you don't mean that you call Him your Master?"
"No," said Kate; "I pretend to nothing of the sort, and you know it; but when I saw Bessie waiting for my answer, and knew of what and of whom she was thinking, I could not help feeling that another ear was listening and waiting too; and so—I dared not. There!" and Kate drew up her head defiantly. "You may laugh at me, you may sneer at me, you may call this humbug; but it is what I felt, and why I answered as I did; and I am not ashamed to own it. I tell you because you feel, some of you, that I have meanly broken my promise. It was ameanthing to make it; it would have been meaner to keep it than it was to break it; and it was better to be false to that promise than false to my own conscience and to God. But I never meant to betray any one but myself; and, Fanny, I am only too sorry if you are worse punished for what I have done;" and she held out her hand to her schoolmate.
Fanny was vexed as well as distressed, but she could not resist Kate's frankness; and she laid her hand in hers, saying, "I suppose I ought not to complain; it was my fault in the first place."
Not one of the girls had laughed, not one had sneered; not one but had been more or less touched by Kate's unusual earnestness, and the way in which she had set herself to atone for her past fault.
"Kate would think we were all perfect, if we took Bessie Bradford for our pattern," said one, half jokingly, but not unkindly.
"Not exactly," said Kate, smiling; "but I believe if we took Bessie's standard of right and wrong, and tried to follow it as truly as she does, we should not go far out of the way. I would not be ashamed to have it said that I had profited by such an example. If her light is a little one, it burns very clearly."
"But if Bessie had been guilty herself, do you believe it would have been so impossible to tempt her?" said Fanny. "If she had expected to be punished, would she have been so ready to confess?"
"Have you forgotten the japonica?" asked Kate. "I thought of that too."
"What japonica?" said Fanny.
"Oh, true! you were not at school that day," answered Kate, laughing at the recollection. "I will tell you."
Now this was the story, and, as I know more about it than Kate, I will tell you myself, instead of giving it in her words; and to do this, I must go some way back.
Miss Ashton was in the habit of giving a few moments of recreation during the morning to her four younger scholars. Sometimes, if the day were pleasant, she let them run on the piazza or in the old garden; and, when she did this, she used to ring for Marcia, the coloured servant-girl, to come and help the children put on their wrappings. Bessie did not like this girl, she could not tell exactly why; but she had, as yet, never allowed this dislike to make her rude or unkind to Marcia.
But one day, when she was down in the music-room with Maggie and Miss Ashton, she saw Marcia do something which she thought gave her good reason for her dislike. The cook had set a dish of stewed pears on the edge of the piazza to cool; and Bessie saw Marcia steal out from the kitchen, and take three of the pears, swallowing them, one after the other, as fast as possible, and then run away. She told Maggie of this, but they agreed they would not "tell tales about it" to any one else.
From that time Bessie would never suffer Marcia to do anything for her. She would rather stay in the house than allow the girl to put on her cloak or shoes; rather go thirsty than take a glass of water from her hand.
One morning, about a week before the affair of the clock, Harry said at breakfast, "Papa, the police caught a lot of burglars round in the next street last night."
"What are burglars?" asked Maggie.
"Thieves and robbers, who go about breaking into people's houses, and taking what does not belong to them," said Harry.
"And did they come into the next street to ours?" asked timid Maggie, with wide-open eyes.
"Yes; but you needn't be afraid. They wouldn't take you, any way; and they most always get found out, and taken to prison," said Harry, thinking more of comforting Maggie than of sticking closely to facts.