FOOTNOTES:[A]The above train of reasoning was actually carried out by a child of five years.
[A]The above train of reasoning was actually carried out by a child of five years.
[A]The above train of reasoning was actually carried out by a child of five years.
OONE night the dear little baby was very sick. Bessie woke many times, and as often as she did so, she found that nurse had not come to bed, and when she looked through the open door which led into her mother's room, she saw either her father or mother walking up and down with the baby, trying to hush her pitiful cries and moans. In the morning the doctor was sent for, and grandmamma came over to the cottage and stayed all day; but the baby grew worse and worse. In the afternoon Maggie and Bessie went into their mamma's room and stood by her side looking at their little sister, who was lying on her lap. The baby seemed very restless, and was moaning and throwing its arms about; suddenly it threw back its head with a very strange look on its face, and clinched itstiny hands. Mamma caught it in her arms, and she and grandmamma called for nurse to bring warm water. Mrs. Jones came with it in a minute, saying, "I had it all ready, for I thought it would be wanted." Maggie ran away; she could not bear to see baby look and act so strangely; but Bessie stayed till grandmamma sent her out of the room. In a short time, Jane came to take the little girls to the beach. They did not want to go, and begged her to let them stay at home; but she said she could not keep Franky in the house all the afternoon, and she thought their mamma would wish them to go out as usual; so they said no more, and went with her, like the obedient children they were.
They found Colonel and Mrs. Rush down on the beach. Mrs. Rush talked to Jane a little, and then said she would go up and see baby. She left the little girls with the colonel, and he tried to amuse them; but although he told them a very interesting story, they did not care about it half as much as usual.
Mrs. Rush stayed a good while, and came back with a very grave face, and when her husband asked, "How is the child?" she looked at him without speaking; but Maggie and Bessie knew by this that the baby was worse. Then Mrs. Rush asked them if they did not want to go to the hotel and have tea with her and the colonel, but they said "No," they wanted to go home.
When they went back to the house, Jane left the little girls sitting on the door-step, while she took Franky in to give him his supper. It was a very quiet, lovely evening. The sun had gone down, but it was not dark yet. The sky was very blue, and a few soft gray clouds, with pink edges, were floating over it. Down on the beach they could see the people walking and driving about; but not a sound was to be heard except the cool, pleasant dash of the waves, and Farmer Jones' low whistle as he sat on the horse-block with Susie on his knee. Susie sucked her fat thumb, and stared at the children. They satthere without speaking, with their arms round each other's waists, wishing they knew about the baby. Presently Mrs. Jones came down stairs and called out over the children's heads, "Sam'l." Mr. Jones got up off the horse-block and came towards them. "Here," said Mrs. Jones, handing him a paper, "they want you to go right off to the station and send up a telegraph for the city doctor. Here it is; Mr. Bradford writ it himself, and he says you're to lose no time. 'Taint a mite of use though, and it's just a senseless wastin' of your time."
"Not if they want it done," said Jones. "Why, Susan, s'pose everybody hadn't done everything they could when we thought this one was going to be took, wouldn't we have thought they was hard-hearted creeturs? I aint done thanking the Almighty yet for leaving her to us, and I aint the man to refuse nothing to them as is in like trouble,—not if it was to ride all the way to York with the telegram."
"I'm sure I don't want you to refuse 'em," said Mrs. Jones,—"one can't say no to them as has a dyin' child; but I do say it's no use. It will all be over long before the doctor comes; all the doctors in York can't save that poor little lamb. Anyhow, if I was Miss Bradford, I wouldn't take on so; she's got plenty left."
"I'll do my part, anyhow," said the farmer, as he handed Susie to her mother, and then hurried off to saddle his horse and ride away to the station as fast as possible, while Mrs. Jones carried Susie off to the kitchen.
"Maggie," whispered Bessie, "what does she mean?"
"The bad, hateful thing!" answered Maggie, with a sudden burst of crying; "she means our baby is going to die. She wouldn't like any one to say that of her Susie, and I don't believe it a bit. Bessie, I can't bear her if she does make us cookies and turnovers. I like Mr. Jones a great deal better, and I wish he didn't have Mrs. Jones at all. Mamma wont have plenty left if our baby dies; six isn't a bittoo many, and she can't spare one of us, I know."
"But perhaps Jesus wants another little angel up in heaven," said Bessie, "and so he's going to take our baby."
"Well, I wish he would take somebody else's baby," said Maggie. "There's Mrs. Martin, she has thirteen children, and I should think she could spare one very well; and there's a whole lot of little babies at the Orphan Asylum, that haven't any fathers and mothers to be sorry about them."
"Perhaps he thinks our baby is the sweetest," said Bessie.
"I know she is the sweetest," said Maggie, "but that's all the more reason we want her ourselves. She is so little and so cunning; I think she grows cunninger and cunninger every day. Day before yesterday she laughed out loud when I was playing with her, and put her dear little hands in my curls and pulled them, and I didn't mind it so very much if she did pull so hard I had to squeal a little;and oh! I'd let her do it again, if she would only get well. Don't you think, Bessie, if we say a prayer, and ask Jesus to let us keep her, he will?"
"I think he will," said Bessie; "we'll try."
"Let us go into the sitting-room," said Maggie, "there is no one there."
"Oh! let us stay out here," answered Bessie, "there's such a beautiful sky up there. Perhaps Jesus is just there looking at us, and maybe he could hear us a little sooner out here. Nobody will see us."
They knelt down together by the seat on the porch. "You say it, Bessie," said Maggie, who was still sobbing very hard. She laid her head down on the bench, and Bessie put her hands together, and with the tears running over her cheeks said, "Dear Jesus, please don't take our darling little baby to be an angel just yet, if you can spare her. She is so little and so sweet, and poor mamma will feel so sorry if she goes away, and we will, too, and we want her so much. Please, dear Jesus, let us keepher, and take some poor little baby that don't have any one to love it, Amen."
They sat down again on the door-step till Harry and Fred came in.
"How is baby?" asked Harry.
"We don't know," said Maggie; "nobody came down this ever so long."
"Go up and see, Midget."
"Oh! I can't, Harry," said Maggie. "I don't want to see that strange look on baby's face."
"Then you go, Bessie," said Harry; "my shoes make such a noise, and you move just like a little mouse. You wont disturb them."
Bessie went up stairs and peeped in at the door of her mother's room. There was no one there but papa and mamma and the baby. Papa was walking up and down the room with his arms folded, looking very sad and anxious, and mamma sat on a low chair with baby on her lap. The little thing lay quiet now, with its eyes shut and its face so very, very white. Mamma was almost as pale, and she did notmove her eyes from baby's face even when Bessie came softly up and stood beside her.
Bessie looked at her baby sister and then at her mother. Mamma's face troubled her even more than the baby's did, and she felt as it she must do something to comfort her. She laid her hand gently on her mother's shoulder, and said, "Dear mamma, don't you want to have a little angel of your own in heaven?" Mamma gave a start and put her arm farther over the baby, as if she thought something was going to hurt it. Papa stopped his walk and Bessie went on,—
"Maggie and I asked Jesus to spare her to us, if he could; but if he wants her for himself, we ought not to mind very much; ought we? And if you feel so bad about it 'cause she's so little and can't walk or speak, I'll ask him to take me too, and then I can tell the big angels just how you took care of her, and I'll help them. And then when you come to heaven, you will have two little angels of your own waiting for you. And we'll alwaysbe listening near the gate for you, dear mamma, so that when you knock and call us, we'll be yeady to open it for you; and if we don't come yight away, don't be frightened, but knock again, for we'll only be a little way off, and we'll come just as fast as I can bring baby; and she'll know you, for I'll never let her forget you. And while you stay here, dear mamma, wont it make you very happy to think you have two little children angels of your own, waiting for you and loving you all the time?"[B]
Mamma had turned her eyes from the baby's face, and was watching her darling Bessie as she stood there talking so earnestly yet so softly; and now she put her arm around her and kissed her, while the tears ran fast from her eyes and wet Bessie's cheeks.
"Please don't cry, mamma," said the little girl; "I did not mean to make you cry. Shall I ask Jesus to take me, too, if he takes the baby?"
"No, no, my darling, ask him to leave you, that you may be your mother's little comforter, and pray that he may spare your sister too."
"And if he cannot, mamma?"
"Then that he may teach us to say, 'Thy will be done,'" said her father, coming close to them and laying his hand on Bessie's head. "He knows what is best for us and for baby."
"Yes," said Bessie, "and I suppose if he takes her, he will carry her in his arms just as he is carrying the lambs in the picture of the Good Shepherd in our nursery. We need not be afraid he wont take good care of her; need we, mamma?"
"No, darling," said Mrs. Bradford, "we need not fear to give her to his care, and my Bessie has taught her mother a lesson."
"Did I, mamma?" said the little girl, wondering what her mother meant; but before she could answer, grandmamma came in with the country doctor.
Mr. Bradford took Bessie in his arms, and after holding her down to her mother for another kiss, carried her from the room. When he had her out in the entry, he kissed her himself many times, and whispered, as if he was speaking to himself, "God bless and keep my angel child."
"Yes, papa," said Bessie, thinking he meant the baby, "and Maggie and I will say another prayer about her to-night; and I keep thinking little prayers about her all the time, and that's just the same, papa; isn't it?"
"Yes, my darling," said her father; and then he put her down and stood and watched her as she went down stairs.
It was not the will of our Father in heaven that the dear little baby should die. Late in the night the doctor came from New York, and God heard the prayers of the baby's father and mother and little sisters, and blessed the means that were used to make it well; and before the morning it was better, and fell into a sweet, quiet sleep.
FOOTNOTES:[B]Almost the exact words of a very lovely child of a friend of the writer.
[B]Almost the exact words of a very lovely child of a friend of the writer.
[B]Almost the exact words of a very lovely child of a friend of the writer.
TTHE next morning, when Bessie woke up, it was very quiet in the nursery. She lay still a moment, wondering what it was that had troubled her last night; and just as she remembered about the baby, she heard a little discontented sound at her side. She turned her head and looked around, and there sat Maggie on the floor beside the trundle-bed, with one sock and one shoe on, and the other shoe in her hand. She looked rather cross.
"Maggie," said Bessie, "has the baby gone to heaven?"
"No," said Maggie, "and I don't believe she's going just yet. Our own doctor came in the night, and she's a great deal better; and now she's fast asleep."
"And don't you feel glad then?"
"Oh, yes! I am real glad ofthat," said Maggie.
"Then why don't you look glad? What is the matter?"
"I can't find my clo'," said Maggie, in a fretful tone.
"What clo'?"
"Why, my sock."
"Why don't nurse or Jane find it for you?" asked Bessie.
"I can't wait," said Maggie; "I want it now; nurse is holding baby because mamma has gone to sleep too, and Jane has taken Franky to Harry's room to dress him, because she was afraid he would make a noise; and she said if I put on my shoes and socks, and all the rest of my under-clo's before she came back, I might put on yours, if you waked up. And that's a great 'sponsibility, Bessie; and I want to do it, and now I can't."
"Look some more," said Bessie, who was very well pleased at the thought of having her sister dress her.
"I have looked all over," said Maggie. "I just expect a robber came in the night and stole it."
"Why, it would not fit him!" said Bessie.
"Well, I guess he has a bad little robber girl of his own that he has taken it to," said Maggie. "Anyhow, she'll be bare one foot, and I'm glad of it."
Bessie sat up in the bed and looked around the room. "I see a pair of clean socks over there on your petticoats," she said.
"So there is," said Maggie; and quite good-natured again, she began to dress as fast as she could.
"Maggie," said Bessie, as she lay down again to wait till her sister was ready, "what was the name of that word you said?"
"What,—'sponsibility?"
"Yes, that's it; say it again."
"Spons-er-bil-er-ty," said Maggie, slowly.
"Oh!" said Bessie, with a long breath, as if that word was almost too much for her, "what does it mean?"
"It means something to do or to take care of."
"Then when mamma put baby on the bed the other day, and told me to take care of her, was that a great spons-er-bil-er-ty?"
"Yes," said Maggie.
"It's a nice word; isn't it, Maggie?"
"Yes, but it is not so nice as happy circumstance."
"Oh, that is very nice? What does that mean, Maggie?"
"It means something very nice and pleasant. I'm going to say happy circumstance to some one to-day, if I get a chance."
"Whom are you going to say it to?"
"I don't know yet; but I shall not say it to the boys, for they laugh at us when we say grown-up words. You may say it, Bessie, if you want to."
"Oh, no," said Bessie, "I would not say your new words before you say them yourself; that would not be fair, and I would not do it for a hundred dollars."
"Well," said Maggie, "I would not let any one else do it, but you may say any of my words you want to, Bessie."
While they were talking away, Maggie was putting on her clothes, and then Bessie got up; and by the time Jane came back, Maggie had nearly dressed her sister too. Jane called Maggie a good, helpful little girl, which pleased her very much, for she liked praise.
After breakfast, as the children were standing on the porch waiting for Jane to take them for their walk, Harry came along and told them, if they would come out to the barn, he would give them a swing. They never said no to the offer of a swing, and, much pleased, followed him to the barn, where they found Mr. Jones sitting outside of the door mending his nets. He took down the swing for them, lifted Bessie in, and then went back to his work. Maggie had said that Bessie should take her turn first, and that, while Harry was swinging her, she would go out and talk to Mr. Jones. They were very good friends now,and Maggie was not at all afraid of him, but sat watching him with great interest as he filled up the broken places in his nets.
"Well, and so the little sister is better this morning?" said Mr. Jones.
"Yes," said Maggie; "and we are very much obliged to you, Mr. Jones."
"What for?" asked Jones.
"Because you went so quick to send for our own doctor."
"Deary me, that wasn't nothing," said Mr. Jones. "I'd ha' been a heathen if I hadn't."
Maggie stood silent for a few moments, watching him, and then said, slowly, but very earnestly, "Mr. Jones, do you think Mrs. Jones is a very happy circumstance?"
Mr. Jones looked at her for a moment as if he did not quite understand her, and then he smiled as he said, "Well, yes, I reckon I do; don't you?"
"No, Idon't," said Maggie. "What did make you marry her, Mr. Jones?"
"Because I thought she would make me a good wife."
Bessie talking to Mr. Jones.Bessie at Sea Side. p. 152.
Bessie at Sea Side. p. 152.
"And does she?"
"First-rate; don't you think she does?"
"I don't know," said Maggie, "I don't like her very much; I like you a great deal better than I do her; I think you are a very nice man, Mr. Jones."
"I guess I'm about of the same opinion about you," said Mr. Jones; "but what is the reason you don't like Mrs. Jones?"
"Oh," said Maggie, "because she—she—does things. She makes me just as mad as a hop."
"What things?"
"She goes and has trundle-beds," said Maggie.
Mr. Jones laughed out now as he said, "Oh, you haven't got over that trouble yet, eh? Well, what else does she do?"
"She said we could spare our baby, and we couldn't," said Maggie, angrily; "and she didn't want you to go send the message for our own doctor. I think she ought to be ashamed."
"She didn't mean it," said Mr. Jones, coaxingly.
"People ought not to say things they don't mean," said Maggie.
"No more they oughtn't, but yet you see they do sometimes."
"And she said mamma took on," said Maggie, "and mamma would not do such a thing; mamma is a lady, and ladies do not take on."
This seemed to amuse Mr. Jones more than anything else, and he laughed so loud and so long that Mrs. Jones came out to the kitchen door. "Sam'l," she called, "what are you making all that noise about?"
"Oh, don't tell her!" said Maggie; while Mr. Jones laughed harder than ever, and she saw that Mrs. Jones was coming towards them.
"Don't you be afraid," said Mr. Jones, "I aint goin' to tell her."
"Now aint you just ashamed of yourself, Sam'l," said Mrs. Jones as she came up, "to be making all that hee-hawing, and poor MissBradford and that little sick lamb lying asleep? Do you want to wake 'em up? Is he laughing at you, Maggie?"
Maggie hung her head, and looked as if she would like to run away.
"I s'pose he's just tickled to death about some of your long words, that he thinks so funny," said Mrs. Jones. "It does not take much to set him going. Never you mind him, come along with me to the kitchen, and see the nice ginger cakes I am makin' for your supper. I'll make you and Bessie a gingerbread man apiece. Such good children you was yesterday, keeping so quiet when the baby was sick, and trying to help yourselves when your poor 'ma and your nurse was busy. If it had been them young ones that was here last summer, they'd have kept the house in a riot from night till morning when they was left to themselves. Jane was tellin' me how nicely you dressed yourself and Bessie this morning. Now, Sam'l, you stop bein' such a goose."
Poor Maggie did not know which way tolook. Here was Mrs. Jones, whom she had just been saying she did not like, praising and petting her and promising gingerbread men; and oh, Mr. Jones was laughing so! He was not laughing out loud now, but he was shaking all over, and when Maggie peeped at him from under her eyelashes, he twinkled his eyes at her, as much as to say, "Now, what do you think of her?" Right glad was she when Harry called her to take her turn at the swing, and she could run away out of sight of Mr. and Mrs. Jones.
In a few days the dear baby was quite well and bright again, while her little sisters thought they loved her more than ever, now that she had been spared to them when they had so much feared they were to lose her.
AAMONG the many pleasures which Maggie and Bessie Bradford enjoyed at Quam Beach, there was none which they liked much better than going over to the hotel to see the dear friends who were staying there. Sometimes it was to stay a while with grandmamma and Aunt Annie; perhaps to take a meal with them at the long hotel table; to hear grandmamma's stories, or to have a frolic with Aunt Annie and their little playmates. Aunt Annie was a young girl herself, merry and full of mischief, and liked play almost as well as Maggie. Then there were those delightful visits to Colonel and Mrs. Rush, which the colonel said he enjoyed more than they did; but they thought that could not be possible. They knew a good many of the other people, too, and almost every onewas pleased to see the two well-behaved, ladylike little girls.
But there was staying at the hotel a lady who used to amaze Maggie and Bessie very much. Her name was Miss Adams. She was very tall and rather handsome, with bright, flashing black eyes, a beautiful color in her cheeks, and very white teeth. But she had a loud, rough voice and laugh, and a rude, wild manner, which was more like that of a coarse man than a young lady. Then she talked very strangely, using a great many words which are called "slang," and which are not nice for any one to use, least of all for a lady. Maggie ran away whenever she came near; but Bessie would stand and watch her with a grave, disapproving air, which was very amusing to those who saw it.
Miss Adams generally had a number of gentlemen around her, with whom she was very familiar, calling them by their names without any "Mr.," slapping them on the shoulder, laughing and talking at the top ofher voice, and altogether behaving in a very unladylike way. But Bessie thought it very strange that sometimes, when Miss Adams had been acting in this rough, noisy manner, after she went away, the gentlemen would shrug their shoulders, and laugh and talk among themselves, as if they were making unkind remarks about her. She thought they could not like her very much, after all, when they did so.
One evening Harry came home from the hotel in a state of great indignation. Miss Adams had a beautiful dog named Carlo. He was a water spaniel, and was a great favorite with all the boys, who often coaxed him to the shore, where they could play with him. Miss Adams was generally willing enough to have him go; but that afternoon, when she was going out in her pony carriage, she wanted him to go with her, and he was not to be found. Something had happened before to put her out, and she was very angry at Carlo's absence. She had gone but a littleway, when it began to rain, and she had to turn back. This vexed her still more; and just as she jumped from her carriage, Carlo ran up.
"So, sir," she said, with an angry frown, "I'll teach you to run away without leave!" and taking the poor dog by the back of the neck, she thrashed him with the horse-whip she held in her other hand. Carlo whined and howled, and looked up in her face with pitiful eyes; but she only whipped him the harder. The ladies turned pale and walked away, and the gentlemen begged her to stop, but all in vain; she kept on until her arm was quite tired, and then the poor dog crept away shaking and trembling all over. The boys were furious, and Maggie and Bessie were very much distressed when they heard the story, and disliked Miss Adams more than ever.
When the baby was quite well again, Mr. and Mrs. Bradford took a drive of some miles, to spend the day with an old friend. They took only baby and nurse with them, andMaggie and Bessie went up to the hotel to stay with their grandmamma. It was a very warm day, and grandmamma called them indoors earlier than usual. But they did not care much, for Aunt Annie was a capital playmate, and she amused them for a long time.
But just as she was in the midst of a most interesting story, some ladies came to make a visit to grandmamma. One of the ladies was old and rather cross, and she did not like children, and Aunt Annie thought that it would not be very pleasant for her little nieces to be in the room while she was there. So she gave them a pack of picture cards and a basket of shells, and said they might go and play with them on one of the long settees which stood on the piazza.
There were only one or two people on the piazza, and the children spread out their shells and pictures, and were very busy and happy for some time. They heard Miss Adams' loud voice in the hall, but did not pay any attention to her.
Presently she came out on the piazza, followed by three or four gentlemen, and looked around for a shady place. She saw none that she liked as well as that where Maggie and Bessie were playing, and coming up to them, she sat down on the other end of the bench. The gentlemen stood around.
"Here, Thorn," said Miss Adams, "sit down here;" and she moved nearer to Bessie, sweeping down some of the shells and pictures with her skirts. Mr. Thorn obeyed, and Maggie whispered to Bessie, "Let's go away." Bessie said, "Yes;" and they began to gather up their treasures, Maggie stooping to pick up those which Miss Adams had thrown down. Presently Bessie felt a pretty hard pull at one of her long curls. She was sure it was Miss Adams, although she did not see her; but she said nothing, only shook back her hair, and put on the look she always did when Miss Adams was doing anything of which she did not approve.
There came another pull, this time a little harder. "Don't," said Bessie.
A third pull, just as Maggie raised her head and saw Miss Adams' hand at Bessie's hair.
"Don't!" said Bessie again, in a louder and more impatient tone.
"Come now, Lovatt," said Miss Adams, "are you not ashamed to be pulling a young lady's hair?"
"Oh!" said Maggie, astonished out of her shyness, "you did it yourself! I saw you."
Miss Adams shook her fist at Maggie, and then gave a longer and harder pull at Bessie's hair.
"When I tell youto don't, whydon'tyou don't?" said Bessie, furiously, stamping her foot, and turning to Miss Adams, her face crimson with anger.
Miss Adams and the gentlemen set up a shout of laughter, and Mr. Lovatt, who was standing just behind Bessie, caught her up in his arms and held her high in the air.
Now Bessie disliked Mr. Lovatt almost as much as she did Miss Adams. He was agreat tease, and was always running after her and trying to kiss her. He had never done it yet, for she had always managed to run away from him, or some of her friends had interfered to save her from being annoyed.
"Put me down!" she said.
"Not until you have given me three kisses," said Mr. Lovatt. "I have you now, and you cannot help yourself."
"Put me down!" screamed Bessie, furious with passion.
"For shame, Lovatt!" said Mr. Thorn, and Mr. Lovatt looked for a moment as if he was going to put Bessie down; but Miss Adams laughed and said,—
"You are not going to let that little mite get the better of you?Makeher kiss you. Such airs!"
Mr. Lovatt lowered the struggling child a little, but still held her fast in his arms, while Maggie ran off to call her grandmamma.
"Kiss me, and I'll let you go," said Mr. Lovatt.
"I wont, I wont!" shrieked Bessie. "I'll tell my papa."
"Your papa is far away," said Miss Adams.
"I'll tell Colonel Yush!" gasped Bessie.
"Do you think I care arushfor him?" said Mr. Lovatt, as he tried to take the kisses she would not give. Bessie screamed aloud, clinched one little hand in Mr. Lovatt's hair, and with the other struck with all her force upon the mouth that was so near her own.
"Whew!" said Mr. Lovatt, as he quickly set Bessie upon her feet, "who would have thought that tiny hand could have stung so?"
"You little tiger!" said Miss Adams, seizing Bessie by the shoulder and giving her a shake. "You are the child they call so good; are you? Why, there's not another in the house would have flown into such a passion for nothing. What a furious temper!"
Bessie had never been shaken before. It was a punishment which Mr. and Mrs. Bradfordwould not have thought proper for a child, were she ever so naughty, and she had never been punished at all by any one but her father or mother, and that but seldom. But it was not so much the shaking as Miss Adams' words which sobered Bessie in an instant. She had been in a passion again! She stood perfectly silent, her lips and cheeks growing so white that Miss Adams was frightened, but just then Mrs. Stanton stepped out on the piazza and came quickly toward them. They all looked ashamed and uncomfortable as the stately old lady lifted her little granddaughter in her arms and spoke a few words of stern reproof to the thoughtless young people who could find amusement in tormenting a little child. Then she carried Bessie away.
MMRS. STANTON would have come sooner, but her visitors were just leaving when Maggie came in, and she did not quite understand at first how it was. Miss Ellery, a young lady who had been standing by, rushed into Mrs. Stanton's room after she carried Bessie in, and told her how the little girl had been treated. Mrs. Stanton was very much displeased, but just now she could think of nothing but the child's distress. She shook all over, and the sobs and tears came faster and faster till grandmamma was afraid she would be ill. She soothed and comforted and petted in vain. Bessie still cried as if her heart would break. All she could say was, "Oh, mamma, mamma! I want my own mamma!"
At last Mrs. Stanton said kindly but firmly,"Bessie, my child, youmustbe quiet. You will surely be sick. Grandmamma is very sorry for you, but your head cannot hurt you so very much now."
"Oh, no!" sobbed the little girl, clinging about her grandmother's neck, "it isn't that, grandmamma; I don't care much if she did pull my hair; but oh, I was so wicked! I was in a passion again, and I wassobad! I struck that man, I know I did. Jesus will be sorry, and he will be angry with me too. He will think that I don't want to be his little child any more, 'cause I was so very, very naughty. Oh! what shall I do?"
"Tell Jesus that you are sorry, and ask him to forgive you, Bessie," said grandmamma, gently.
"Oh! I am 'fraid he can't," sobbed Bessie; "he must be so very angry. I didn't think about him, and I didn't try one bit, grandmamma. I just thought about what Miss Adams and that man did to me, and I was in such a dreadful passion; I never was so badbefore. Oh, I wish I could tell my own mamma about it!"
All this was said with many sobs and tears and catchings of her breath, and grandmamma wished that Miss Adams could see the distress she had caused.
"Bessie," she said, "why did Jesus come down from heaven and die on the cross?"
"So our Father in heaven could forgive us," answered the child more quietly.
"And do you not think that his precious blood is enough to wash away our great sins as well as those which we may think are smaller?"
"Yes, grandmamma."
"Now, no sin is small in the eyes of a just and holy God, Bessie; but when he made such a great sacrifice for us, it was that he might be able to forgiveevery oneof our sins against him, if we are truly sorry for them. And he will surely do so, my darling, and help and love us still, if we ask him for the sake of that dear Son."
"And will he listen to menow, grandmamma, just when I was so very naughty?"
"Yes, he is always ready to hear us. No matter how much we have grieved him, he will not turn away when we call upon him."
Bessie was silent for some minutes with her face hidden on her grandmother's neck, and her sobs became less violent. At last she whispered, "Grandmamma, do you think Jesus can love me just as much as he did before?"
"Just as much, my precious one," said grandmamma, drawing her arms close about Bessie, and pressing her lips on the little curly head. Then Bessie raised her face and turned around in her grandmamma's lap. A very pale little face it was, and very weak and tired she looked; but she lay quite quiet now except for a long sob which still came now and then. Maggie wondered why grandmamma bit her lip, and why her eyebrows drew together in a frown, as if she were angry. She could not be displeased with Bessie now, she thought.
Presently grandmamma began to sing in a low voice,—
"Just as I am, without one plea,Save that thy blood was shed for me,And that thou bid'st me come to thee,O Lamb of God! I come."Just as I am, and waiting notTo rid my soul of one dark blot,To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,O Lamb of God! I come."Just as I am thou wilt receive,Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve,Because thy promise I believe,O Lamb of God! I come."Just as I am,—thy love unknownHas broken every barrier down;Now to be thine, yea, thine aloneO Lamb of God! I come."
"Just as I am, without one plea,Save that thy blood was shed for me,And that thou bid'st me come to thee,O Lamb of God! I come."Just as I am, and waiting notTo rid my soul of one dark blot,To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,O Lamb of God! I come."Just as I am thou wilt receive,Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve,Because thy promise I believe,O Lamb of God! I come."Just as I am,—thy love unknownHas broken every barrier down;Now to be thine, yea, thine aloneO Lamb of God! I come."
"Just as I am, without one plea,Save that thy blood was shed for me,And that thou bid'st me come to thee,O Lamb of God! I come.
"Just as I am, and waiting notTo rid my soul of one dark blot,To thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot,O Lamb of God! I come.
"Just as I am thou wilt receive,Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve,Because thy promise I believe,O Lamb of God! I come.
"Just as I am,—thy love unknownHas broken every barrier down;Now to be thine, yea, thine aloneO Lamb of God! I come."
When she had sung one verse, Maggie joined in, and Bessie lay listening. When they were through, Mrs. Stanton put Bessie down in a corner of the lounge, and said the children must have some lunch. First she rang the bell, and then went to a little cupboardat the side of the fireplace and brought out two small white plates, which Maggie and Bessie knew quite well. Presently the waiter came to the door to know what Mrs. Stanton wanted. This was James, the head waiter. He knew Maggie and Bessie, and they were great favorites with him. His wife washed for some of the ladies in the hotel, and once when she came there with some clothes, she brought her little girl with her, and left her in the hall with her father, who was busy there. She was averylittle girl, and could just walk alone, and while she was toddling about after her father, she fell down and knocked her head against the corner of a door. She cried very hard, and James tried to quiet her, lest she should disturb some of the boarders. But she had a great bump on her head, and she did not see any reason why she should be still when it hurt her so. She was still crying when Maggie and Bessie came through the hall. Each had a stick of candy, which some one had just given them. When they heard the littleone crying, they stopped to ask what ailed her.
"I'll give her my candy," said Maggie.
"Yes, do," said Bessie, "and I'll give you half of mine."
The child stopped crying when she had the nice stick of candy. James was very much pleased, and after that he was always glad to wait upon our little girls. He had just now heard the story of Bessie's trouble, for Miss Ellery had taken pains to spread it through the house, so vexed was she at Miss Adams, and James had been by when she was telling some of the ladies. He felt very sorry for Bessie, and wished that he could do something for her. When he came to answer Mrs. Stanton's ring, she asked him to bring some bread and butter.
"Is it for the little ladies, ma'am?" asked James. Mrs. Stanton said, "Yes," and James asked if they would not like toast better. Two or three times when Maggie and Bessie had taken tea with their grandmamma, he hadnoticed that Bessie always asked for toast. Mrs. Stanton thanked him and said yes, for she thought perhaps Bessie would eat toast when she would not eat bread.
"But can I have it at this time of the day?" she said.
"No fear, ma'am," said James. "You shall have it, if I make it myself;" and with a nod to the children, he went away.
Bessie sat quiet in a corner of the sofa, still looking very grave.
"Don't you feel happy now, Bessie?" said Maggie, creeping close to her, and putting her arm around her. "I am sure Jesus will forgive you."
"Yes, I think he will," said Bessie; "but I can't help being sorry 'cause I was so naughty."
"You was not half so bad as Miss Adams, if you did get into a passion," said Maggie, "and I don't believe he'll forgive her."
"Oh, Maggie!" said Bessie.
"Well, I don't believe she'll ask him."
"Then I'll ask him," said Bessie.
"Now, Bessie, don't you do it!"
"But I ought to ask him, if I want him to forgive me," said Bessie. "When we say 'Our Father in heaven,' we say 'Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.' I think Miss Adams sinned against me a little bit; don't you, Maggie?"
"No, I don't," said Maggie. "No little bit about it.Ithink she sinned against you a great bit,—as much as the whole ocean."
"Then if I want Jesus to forgive me, I ought to forgive her, and to ask him to forgive her too. I think I ought. I'm going to ask mamma to-night."
"Isha'n't do it, I know," said Maggie. "I wish I was as tall as she is; no,—as tall as papa or Colonel Rush, and oh! wouldn't she get it then!"
"What would you do?" asked Bessie.
"I don't know,—something. Oh, yes! don't you know the pictures of Bluebeard's wives, where they're all hanging up by theirhair? I'd just hang her up that way, and thenherhair would be nicely pulled. And I'd get the boys to come and poke her with sticks." Maggie said this, shaking her head with a very determined look.
The idea of Miss Adams hanging up by her hair made Bessie laugh; but in a moment she looked grave again. "I don't believe that's yight, Maggie," she said.
"I don't care," said Maggie. "I'm going to say it."
Just then James came back, and they forgot Miss Adams for a while. He brought a nice plate of toast and some butter. Grandmamma spread two pieces of toast and laid them on the little plates, and then went back again to the famous cupboard and brought out—oh, delicious!—a box of guava jelly. She put a spoonful on each plate, and gave them to the children. "Now, remember," she said, "the jelly goes with the toast."
Bessie looked rather doubtfully at her toast. "Grandmamma, I don't feel very hungry."
"But you must eat something, Bessie; it is long after your luncheon time, and it will not do for you to go until dinner without eating. Mamma will think I did not take good care of you."
But the toast tasted so good with the guava jelly that Bessie eat the whole of hers and even asked for more, to grandma's great pleasure. When she brought it to her with some more jelly, she saw that Bessie had still some of the sweetmeats left on her plate. "Don't you like your jelly, dear?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," said Bessie, "but I didn't know if I could eat all the toast, and I thought perhaps you only wanted me to eat just so much share of the guava as I eat a share of the toast; so I eat that first to be sure."
Grandma smiled, but she did not praise her honest little granddaughter, for she did not think it best.
When Aunt Annie heard Miss Ellery tell how Bessie had been treated, she was very angry, and said some things about Miss Adamsand Mr. Lovatt which her mother did not wish to have her say before the children. She told her so, speaking in French; so Annie said no more just then; but as soon as Bessie ceased crying, she ran out to tell Miss Adams what she thought of her conduct. But happily Miss Adams was not to be found, and before Annie saw her again, her mother had persuaded her that it was better to say nothing about it.
But now when she could not find Miss Adams, she went off to Mrs. Rush's room and told her and the colonel the whole story. The colonel was angry enough to please even Annie. He said so much, and grew so excited, that Mrs. Rush was sorry Annie had told him. He was far more displeased than he would have been with any insult to himself, and when, soon after, he met Mr. Lovatt in the hall, he spoke so severely and angrily to him that Mr. Lovatt was much offended. Very high words passed between the two gentlemen, and the quarrel might have become serious, if Mr. Howard had not interfered.
Miss Adams heard all this, and when she found how much trouble and confusion she had caused by her cruel thoughtlessness, she felt rather ashamed, and wished she had not tormented the little child who had never done her any harm. But this was not the last of it, for Miss Adams was to be punished a little by the last person who meant to do it.
IIN the afternoon the children asked their grandmother if they might go down upon the beach, but she said it was still too warm, and she did not wish Bessie to go out until the sun was down.
"Grandma is going to take her nap now," said Aunt Annie; "suppose we go out on the piazza and have a store, and ask Lily and Gracie to come play with you."
"Is Miss Adams there?" asked Maggie.
"No, but the colonel has had his arm-chair taken out, and is sitting there with Mrs. Rush, and I am going there with my work; so you will be quite safe."
"Oh, then we'll go," said Bessie. She did not feel afraid where the colonel was.
"Are you going to sew with Mrs. Rush again?" asked Maggie.
Aunt Annie laughed and pinched her cheeks, telling her not to be inquisitive. For the last few days Aunt Annie had always seemed to be sewing with Mrs. Rush, and they were very busy, but they did not appear to wish to let the little girls know what they were doing. Annie was always whisking her work out of their sight, and if they asked any questions, they were put off, or told, as Maggie was now, not to be curious.
Once when they were staying with the colonel, when Mrs. Rush had gone out for a while, he sent Bessie to a certain drawer to find a knife. Bessie did as she was told, but as she was looking for it, she suddenly called out, "Oh, what a dear darling little cap! just like a dolly's. Why, does Mrs. Yush play with dolls when nobody looks at her?"
"Holloa!" said the colonel, "I forgot; come away from that drawer. I'm a nice man; can't keep my own secrets."
Maggie was going to ask some questions; but the colonel began to talk about somethingelse, and they both forgot the little cap. But they were very curious to know why Aunt Annie and Mrs. Rush were always whispering and laughing and showing each other their work, as well as why it was so often put away when they came near. To-day Aunt Annie was embroidering a little piece of muslin, but she did not put it out of their sight, though she would answer no questions about it.
They all went out on the piazza to set about making what Maggie called, "A Grocery andPerwisionStore." The piazza steps ended in two large blocks of wood, and on one of these they were to play. Aunt Annie made some paper boxes to hold some of their things, and they had clam shells for the rest. They had sand for sugar, blades of timothy grass for corn, sea-weed for smoked beef and ham, and small pebbles for eggs, with larger ones for potatoes. In short, it was quite wonderful to see the number of things they contrived to have for sale. When the colonel found what they were about, he called for a couple of clamshells, and sent his man for a piece of wood and some twine; with these he made a pair of scales, which Maggie and Bessie thought quite splendid. To be sure, one side was ever so much heavier than the other, but that did not matter in the least; neither they nor their customers would be troubled by a trifle like that. Then he gave them a couple of bullets and some shot for weights, so that the whole thing was fixed in fine style.
Maggie went to call Lily and Gracie, and when Mamie Stone heard what was going on, she asked if she might come too. Maggie said "Yes," for Mamie was not so disagreeable as she used to be when she first came to Quam Beach. However fretful and selfish she was when she was playing with other children, she was almost always pleasant when she was with Maggie and Bessie.
Maggie went back with her to their little playmates, and in a few moments they were all as busy as bees. Maggie said Bessie must be store-keeper, for she knew she did not feel like running about.
They had been playing but a little while, when Walter came up, and when he saw what they were doing, he said he would be a customer too. He was a capital playfellow, and pretended to be ever so many different people. First, he was an old negro man, then he was a naughty boy, who meddled with everything on the counter, and gave the little shop-woman a great deal of trouble, which she enjoyed very much; then he was a Frenchman, who spoke broken English; and after that, he pretended to be a cross old Irishman.
While they were playing so nicely, who should come sweeping down the piazza but Miss Adams, dressed in her riding-habit? Away went all the little girls like a flock of frightened birds. Mamie and Lily ran into the parlor, where they peeped at her from behind the blinds; Gracie scrambled into Annie Stanton's lap; Maggie squeezed herself in between the colonel and Mrs. Rush; and Bessie walked to the other side of the colonel, where she stood with her hand on his chair.
Miss Adams was vexed when she saw them all fly off so, for she had not come with any intention of interrupting or teasing them. She was going out to ride, and had walked to the window of the hall above, to see if the horses were at the door, and there she had noticed the children at their play.
Bessie stood quietly behind her counter, while the rest ran about after Maggie. She looked more pale and languid than usual that afternoon, as she always did when she had been tired or excited. All the soft pink color which had come into her cheek since she had been at Quam Beach was quite gone; it was no wonder that grandma frowned and bit her lip to keep herself from saying sharp things when she looked at her darling that day.
Now, Miss Adams always said that she was afraid of nobody, and did not care what people said of her; but as she watched the delicate little child, who she knew had been brought by her parents to the sea-shore that she might gain health and strength, she felt sorry thatshe had plagued her so, and thought that she would like to make it up with her. She went into her room, put a large packet of sugar-plums into her pocket, and then went down stairs. She came up to Bessie just as the little girl reached the colonel's side, and, standing before her, said,—
"Well, Bessie, are you in a better humor yet?"
Bessie was certainly not pale now. A very bright color had come into her cheeks, as Miss Adams spoke to her, but she said nothing.
"Come," said Miss Adams, holding out the parcel, "here are some sugar-plums for you; come, kiss me and make up."
"I'll forgive you," said Bessie, gravely; "but I don't want the sugar-plums."
"Oh, yes, you do!" said Miss Adams; "come and kiss me for them."
"I don't kiss people for sugar-plums," said Bessie; "and I'm sure I don't want them."
"Then come and kiss me without the sugar-plums."
"No," said Bessie, "I'll shake hands with you, but I don't kiss people I don't like."
"Oh!" said Miss Adams, "I suppose you keep all your kisses for your friend, the colonel."
"Oh, no," answered Bessie, "a great many are for papa and mamma, and the yest of the people I like."
Miss Adams saw that the colonel was laughing behind his newspaper, and she was provoked.
"And you don't like me, eh?" she said, sharply. "Don't you know it's very rude to tell a lady you don't like her, and wont kiss her?"
Bessie opened her eyes very wide. "Are you a lady?" she asked, in a tone of great surprise.
Mrs. Rush did not wish to have Miss Adams go on talking to the child, for she was afraid straightforward Bessie would say something which would cause fresh trouble; and she begged Annie Stanton to take her away; butAnnie would not; she rather enjoyed the prospect, and when Mrs. Rush would have spoken herself, her husband put out his hand and stopped her.
"A lady!" repeated Miss Adams; "what do you take me for? Don't you know a lady when you see one?"
"Oh, yes," answered Bessie, innocently. "Mamma's a lady, and grandma and Aunt Annie and Mrs. Yush, and ever so many others."
"And I'm not, eh?" said Miss Adams, angrily.
Bessie did not answer, but peeped up under the colonel's paper, to see if he would help her; but he did not seem inclined to interfere. His eyes were fixed on the paper which he held before his face, and his other hand was busily engaged in smoothing his moustache.
Miss Adams was very angry. She would not have cared if she had been alone with Bessie; but she was provoked that she should tell her she was not a lady, before so many people,for two or three gentlemen had gathered near, and the colonel's amusement vexed her still more.
"You don't call me a lady, eh?" said Miss Adams again.
"How can you quarrel with such a baby about nothing, Miss Adams?" said Mrs. Rush, rising from her seat.
"She is no baby. She knows very well what she is about, and she has been put up to this," said Miss Adams, with a furious look at the colonel. "Who told you I was not a lady?"
"Nobody; I just knew it myself," said Bessie, drawing closer to the colonel, as Miss Adams came nearer to her. He threw down his paper, and put his hand over her shoulder.
"You little impertinent!" said Miss Adams, "who made you a judge, I should like to know? Not a lady, indeed!"
Poor Bessie! She would not say what she did not think, and she did not like to say what she did think; but she was tired of the dispute,and thought Miss Adams would have an answer. She gave a long sigh, and said,—
"Well, perhaps you are a kind of a lady; but if you are, it must be a kitchen or stable lady."
The gentlemen who were standing by walked quickly away; Mrs. Rush looked frightened; Annie bent her head down on Gracie's shoulder, and shook with laughter; and the colonel reached his crutches and, rising, began to steady himself.
Miss Adams stood silent a moment, and then began to speak in a voice almost choked with rage, "You little—" when the colonel interrupted her.
"Excuse me, madam," he said, "if I remind you that you have no one to blame for this but yourself. The child is straightforward and honest, accustomed to speak as she thinks; and if she has said what was better left unsaid, remember that you forced her to it. I cannot permit her to be annoyed any farther."
Helpless as he was, he looked so grand and tall as he stood there with his eyes fixed sternly on Miss Adams, that she felt abashed. Mrs. Rush had taken Bessie into her room, Annie had followed with Maggie and Gracie, and there was no one left to quarrel with but the colonel. Just at that moment the horses were led up, and she turned away and went down the steps to mount.
But Miss Adams had never been so annoyed. She had no mother, or perhaps she would not have been so rough and unladylike; but she had had many a reproof from other people. Many a grave, elderly lady, and even some of her own age, had spoken, some kindly, some severely, upon the wild, boisterous manner in which she chose to behave. But she had always laughed at all they said, and went on as before. But that this innocent little child, to whom she had been so unkind, should see for herself that she had acted in an improper way, and one that was only fit for the kitchen or stable, and should tell her so, and show suchsurprise at hearing her call herself a lady, was very mortifying, and she could not forget it.
That evening, when Mr. and Mrs. Bradford came home, they went over to the hotel for their little girls, and Annie told them all that had happened that day. After Bessie was undressed, and had said her prayers, she sat on her mother's lap, and told her of all her troubles, and then she felt happier.
"Mamma, I'm afraid I made Miss Adams mad, when I said that, and I didn't mean to," she said.
"But why did you say it, Bessie?—it was saucy."
"Why, I had to, mamma; I didn't want to; but I couldn'tbreak the truth; she asked me and asked me, so I had to."
"Oh, my Bessie, my Bessie!" said mamma, with a low laugh, and then she held the little girl very close in her arms, and kissed her. Bessie nestled her head down on her mamma's bosom, and her mother held her there, and rocked her long after she was fastasleep. Sometimes she smiled to herself as she sat thinking and watching her child; but once or twice a bright tear dropped down on Bessie's curls. Mamma was praying that her little girl might live to grow up and be a good Christian woman, and that she might always love the truth as she did now, even when she was older and knew it was not wise to say such things as she had done to-day.