The task that lay before Mrs. Grey was an uncongenial one, but she entered upon it cheerfully and hopefully; nobody who knew her, would need to be told that she went prayerfully, also. She found, as she expected, intelligent, educated persons in Mr. and Mrs. Thayer, and as he had retired from business, he had plenty of leisure to consult with her.
"Things have always gone wrong with us," he said, as soon as the ice was broken. "But we have at last reached a point when everything must be placed on a new basis. I have tried my best with the children; have talked to them by the hour together; have chastised them and indulged them by turns, but all in vain. And now," he added, his voice trembling, "I have just caught my eldest boy, Bob, in an act of theft."
"To a large amount?"
"Large for a boy of his age. And what makes it hard is, that I have been lavish with him in every way. I did not suppose he had a wish ungratified."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Grey, in a tone that declared she was beginning to see daylight.
"Bob is a good-hearted boy," said Mrs. Thayer, "but his character leans to shiftlessness. We have tried to tone him up, but if a child is born without a backbone, what can one do?"
"May I ask in what way you have tried to tone him up?"
"Certainly," replied Mr. Thayer, in a tone of surprise. "We have talked to him year in and year out."
"Does he like that?"
"No. He yawns in my face."
"Now, you want my honest opinion?"
"We do, most emphatically."
"Then, allow me to say that long talks to children seldom, if ever, do any good. A single, loving, wise word dropped just at the right moment, will do infinitely more. But something lies back even of this. It is parental character. Now I don't want to know from which of you two your boy gets his bias; perhaps it is from neither. But he is one of the sort who never should have a promise made him, and then left unfulfilled. He needs to see, every day, prompt, decisive action; what he sees will tell more than what he hears. And, I say it in all kindness, no human being who has his every wish gratified is in a process of toning up. Such luxury tends to enervate, not to strengthen."
"I meant it for the best," said Mr. Thayer, with a sigh. "I hoped to win the lad's heart by kindness. But I see how it has all ended in failure. Perhaps," he added, after a pause, "you ought to know the whole story. I am careless about money matters; don't like trouble, and have never kept any account with Bob. He got into the way of boasting to other boys how much he had at his disposal; how much more than any of them, and they dared him to prove that this was the case. In a great hurry one day I threw some loose bills into a drawer, forgot them, and perhaps never should have thought of them again, but a good friend of mine came and told me that Bob was exhibiting a larger sum at school than he thought it likely I had given him; and then the whole thing came out."
"What did you do?"
"I talked to him, and then thrashed him."
"Are you sure it is a good thing to thrash a boy of that age?"
"Why, could I do less?"
"Of course I cannot legislate in this matter; but you may depend there is a parental screw loose somewhere when a lad of fourteen has to be thrashed. Are you sure that you have kept him out of temptation by constant employment, for instance?"
"I never thought of that. Bob's a lazy fellow; he hates work, though he's fond enough of play, to be sure."
"It is a vital point to keep children busy," said Mrs. Grey. "Taste for this and that employment can be cultivated. Are you sure he would not like to learn drawing? Or the use of tools? Or music?"
"He has no natural taste for either."
"Then how does he spend his time out of school?"
"I don't know, exactly; I suppose he lounges about the streets more or less."
"What sort of boys are his intimate friends?"
"I don't know that either, exactly."
"I know," said Mrs. Thayer, "what boys visit him, but I do not know of what sort they are. He always sees them in his own room."
Mr. Thayer was here called out, and Mrs. Thayer turned eagerly to her guest.
"You see what my boy's father is," she said, "a kinder, a better man does not exist; but he never has known how to manage Bob, and most of the care of him has rested on me. And one parent is not enough for children. Still, I did the best I could, and Bob was obedient at any rate—for that I require of my children; but he slipped out of my fingers in this wise. I was just going out to pay some visits, when a boy came to invite him to dine with him. It was on a Friday, when there are no lessons, so I gave my consent, only directing him to put on a clean shirt, adding, remembering his indolence, 'You can go on no other terms. Go directly and dress, or you will getto romping about and forget it.' He promised, and I went out, returning in time to see him just ready, to start in his soiled and crumpled shirt. I said to him, 'I'm sorry for you, Bob, but you know on what terms you were to go.' He began to cry, and the face of the other boy lengthened. My husband never had interfered before, nor has he ever since; but he interfered so decidedly then, and was joined so vehemently by one of his brothers who happened to be present, that it was next to impossible to hold out against them. Bob went off in triumph, and my authority was for ever ended. He has been growing worse ever since. His father meant no harm; but he did not foresee, as I did, what would be the consequences of this one mistake. Now, have you anything to suggest? Is our boy on the absolute road to ruin?"
"Before I reply, please answer one question. How much hold have you on his affections?"
"Very little. And since we have told him we could not love a boy guilty of his crime, he has grown surly."
"Is it true that you do not love him?"
"Of course not."
"Why then tell him so?"
"We are trying, in every way, to make him abhor the sin?"
"Poor boy! poor father! poor mother! What aseries of mistakes!" thought Mrs. Grey. "WhereshallI begin?" And then remembered she had begun in her closet.
"I know," she then said, "that some children are born with such amiable instincts, that they give little trouble to their parents and teachers, and become, therefore, their pride and glory. But this is the exception, not the rule. Thegeneralrule is that the more character a child possesses, the more he will be faulty. My impression is, that most parental difficulties result from misconception on two radical points. The first is a putting off of God's regenerating work to a period in their children's lives when they can intelligently help Him do it. The second is faith in self. Now I will not say that I know it to be the case that some souls are regenerated before they enter this world; I only suggest the thought for your reflection; but that the mass of mankind enter it unregenerate, is the belief of all who accept the Bible as Divine truth. This being the case, every parent who undertakes to mould and fashion his child into a model of morality and virtue with his own hands, makes a radical mistake. Divine must precede parental work. Until a soul has been regenerated, labor spent on it is external, and cannot reach the roots of being."
Mr. and Mrs. Thayer listened with some incredulity, yet with the respect due to superior years.
At last Mr. Thayer said, "I must own that this theory is new to me, and that I am not prepared to accept, as I am unwilling to reject it. I have always believed that a soul mustwillto be born again, and that a child must reach an intelligent age before it would reach such a point."
"Do you believe that those who die in infancy are lost, because they never exercised faith in God, or willed to be His?"
"No, indeed."
"Well, how are they saved?"
"By special grace."
"And not through the exercise of faith on their part?"
"Certainly not."
"This concession, then, does away with the notion that faith is a redeeming virtue—a meritorious act. Consequently, a child can be regenerated before birth, at birth, or at an indefinitely early age after birth; the sooner the better. Instead of spending ten or twelve years in forming unholy habits, which it will require as many more to outgrow, it may begin from its earliest consciousness to form holy ones."
"Holy is a very holy word," said Mr. Thayer. "One hardly associates it with a laughing child."
"It is undoubtedly a very holy word, when applied to a veteran saint; but there has been a Holy Child on earth, the child Jesus; and in virtue of thatfact, all our sons and daughters may, at any early age, become partakers of this grace."
Mr. and Mrs. Thayer were ominously silent. Mrs. Grey, therefore, proceeded: "Holiness in a young child is in its germ. It may mean little more than a genuine tendency to what is right. There will be faults, and foibles, and mistakes, perhaps falls; why not? Is it to be nearer perfection than its parents? They have faults and foibles, and make fearful mistakes; many of them have seasons of terrible backsliding, and falls that wring the hearts of all Christendom, if they have stood high enough to be seen by it."
"I have prayed for the conversion of our children," said Mrs. Thayer, "but expected it to come at some future time, when I wanted it to be a marked, unmistakable experience."
"Why not, just as rationally, put off their beginning to love you till they could give a good reason for it, and do it in a very decided way? It seems to me the most natural thing in the world for the children of Christian parents to begin to love Christ as soon as they hear who and what He is. Their love may be poor and meagre, and lack intelligence; but if it is genuine, it will wax stronger and stronger. If it does not exist at all, you can only work on them through the sentiment of fear; whereas love is the master-passion of the human soul."
"Oh," cried Mr. Thayer, holding up his right hand, "God is my witness, that I would give this hand to see my children converted unto Him! I never realized till now, what deep-seated yearnings I had for them. But I supposed they must go through some process first; distress of mind, repentance, faith."
"Faith they will have; faith that will put yours to the blush, if they are trained aright, with prayer. They may pass through painful processes later on in life, but not necessarily."
"But does not the Bible put repentance first?"
"It does, when addressing adults. I find no evidence that it thus addresses a child of two years. I believe that if Christ were now on earth, and should go into your nursery in order to save the two little boys there, He would not say a word about repentance; He would do something to make them love Him. Oh, how often I have rejoiced that the first parental words that fell on my ear were tender, affectionate ones about Him; that the law preached to me was, 'Do this because it will please Him! Don't do that because it will grieve Him.'"
"I am impressed by what you say," Mr. Thayer remarked, looking at his watch, "and could listen all night. But we have kept you up till eleven o'clock in our selfish interests."
"I have kept myself up in the Master's interests," she said, fervently.
As the family gathered together at breakfast the next morning, she took special pains to shake hands with Bob, and give him a smile. He was surprised and pleased, for he had vaguely connected this visitor with his own misdeed.
"They haven't told her, after all," he thought, and a faint spark of gratitude arose in his heart. "And she ain't one of the long-faced kind, either," he said to himself, as he glanced at her cheerful face.
There was a good deal of bustle after breakfast about getting the children off to school. One fretted about her luncheon; another at being directed to wear overshoes because he had a cold.
"Mamma," said the eldest daughter, "I'm going to have some girls to lunch next Saturday. And I don't want any ofyouin the room, either."
At this exhibition Mrs. Thayer blushed. She found it not so pleasant to have the children betray themselves to Mrs. Grey present, who was quite another person to Mrs. Grey absent.
Two or three little altercations arose, meantime, between the children.
"I don't see why you should have lunch all to yourself," said Julia, a girl of ten.
"Well, it's enough that I see it," retorted Esther.
"Mamma won't let you, I know; will you, mamma?"
"I've got to have an excuse for tardiness," said Esther, turning to her mother.
"Another excuse? I've a good mind not to give you any. Now, I can't have this. It is the third time this week."
And so on, and so on.
When they were fairly off, Mrs. Thayer burst into tears of mingled shame and pain.
"You see how it is," she said. "Esther regards us as natural enemies, whom she cannot allow to share her interests. And her love of dress tries me, too. And there is Julia following in her steps. If it were not for the younger children I should have no comfort. It is strange that they should degenerate so; in their nursery I saw very little of the unlovely traits they are developing now."
"Well, now, Mrs. Grey, have you any counsel to give us?" asked Mr. Thayer. "We are ready to bear reproof and to amend our ways if you can suggest a change."
Mrs. Grey replied, very earnestly, "It is not so much outward change that you two need, as a new deep-seated principle within. I think you have dealt with your children too much on the outside. The first thing torequireis obedience. The first thing for them toacquireis tenderness of conscience. All the lectures, and all the chastisements in the world will come to naught if this is lacking. A moment's reflection will show you that a time will come when parental law must cease, and that they must then become a law unto themselves. The best lock and key, the best bar and bolt, is conscience. Now we will allow that you have partially erred in this regard; what is the remedy for that and every other error? I maintain that the only remedy is prayer. The Divine hand can overrule your mistakes; no other can."
Mr. and Mrs. Thayer maintained an embarrassed silence.
At last Mrs. Thayer said: "Perhaps you have laid the axe to the root of all our difficulties. I do not think we have realized our human insufficiency till quite lately."
"Thank God, that you realize it now. The next step to such realization, is a laying hold of His strength. I have been watching Bob; he does not look like a vicious boy; if you manage wisely, he may never repeat the offence that has caused you such pain."
"And what would you counsel in regard to him?"
"I do not know. I have never had to deal with such a case. If he were my boy I should just go to God with my ignorance, and expect to gain wisdom how to act. But let me say, just here, that my experience with boys and girls forbids free use of money. As soon as they reach a proper age, they should have, if possible, an allowance, and be obliged to keep account of every penny of it. I should say in relation to Bob, that he should be indulged verysparingly, and obliged to restore to a mill all he has taken, even if it takes years to do it. This long discipline will do him good. 'The way of transgressors is hard;' let him learn that so effectually that he can never forget it. One thing more. You have told him that you do not love him; go on in that path, and you will lose your boy. You must not only love him, you must let him know that you do by constant acts of kindness. God makes a distinction between the sinner and his sin; He loves the one and hates the other; we must do the same."
The unhappy parents began to feel their burden lightened.
"Then, you think there is hope for our poor boy?" they asked.
"Iknowthere is just as long as you enclose him in your prayers. He will be as safe as an insect in a piece of amber."
"But the insect is dead."
"Yes, but how much better hath God made a human soul that cannot die?"
"I have not breathed so freely for a month," said Mrs. Thayer. "Will you give us some hints now about Esther? You see what she is, superficially; but she has good qualities, and far more character than Bob."
"How happens it that she wants to exclude you all from her pleasures?"
"I don't know; but she does, and so mortifies and grieves me."
"Have you always taken care to show sympathy with her in her pursuits, her friends, and the like?"
"Perhaps not all I might."
"I fancy this interest is all that is wanting. You might try and see. By the bye, have you any absorbing pursuit or friendship yourself?"
"Yes, I have many."
"Perhaps, then, you have unconsciously weaned the child from you by only half listening to what she has had to say about hers."
"Did you observe that she informed me that she was going to have friends to lunch, instead of asking permission?"
"Certainly."
"And what should you do in such a case? Reason with her?"
"No; I should simply provide no entertainment. As things stand, however, giving her warning to that effect."
"You have no idea how angry she will be."
Mrs. Grey was silent.
"And then how she'll tease!"
"The sooner she learns the uselessness of teasing the better."
Mrs. Thayer twisted her pocket-handkerchief around her fingers uneasily. At last she said:
"I can't tell you how I dread entering on this contest."
"There need be no contest. It takes two for that, and I don't propose a fight."
"What am I to do, then?"
"Do nothing while the tempest lasts. After it is over, speak to her kindly, but firmly; and state it as a simple fact that a new leaf is to be turned over in the family life."
"It won't do any good. Esther has such a will. I shall only provoke her!"
"You can't provoke her if you speak gently and lovingly."
"But I can't do that. When she has one of her tantrums I lose my temper."
"Then before you speak to her, speak to God. He will sweeten and humble you if you will let Him do it."
"Mrs. Grey's carriage," announced a servant.
"Oh, must you go so soon?" cried Mr. Thayer. "I am sure my wife needs more counsel."
"Let me countermand the carriage. Do stay one night more. You may save our children by doing it," urged Mrs. Thayer.
"I must send a telegram home if I stay."
"Certainly," said Mr. Thayer. "I will take it myself."
"Dear Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Thayer, "I am so thankful to see you alone. You have opened a new world to me in regard to prayer. Beyond praying for my children night and morning, I have never consulted the Lord about them. I have always acted on the impulse of the moment."
"We come to grief, sooner or later, if we do that."
"But I am naturally impulsive, and look before I leap. Icannotalways stop to think where I shall alight."
"If your watch is in good order, do you have to domore than wind it up every night to insure its keeping good time? Now if your soul is in a normal condition through the skill and goodness of God, and you do your part towards keeping it so by prayer, be as impulsive as you like. You'll keep good time."
"There is another trouble I have with Esther. She is too fond of dress."
"Most girls are. Their mothers teach them this by talking as if it were a matter of great moment, and by giving them articles of dress as holiday and birthday gifts, thus implying that this is the greatest favor they can do them."
"I have done this, but thoughtlessly. It never occurred to me that I was educating my girls into this folly."
She spoke in a weary voice, and at length added: "I am all out of patience with myself. I don't see but that I lie at the bottom of most of my children's faults."
"Fenelon tells us to be patient with ourselves, and he is right," Mrs. Grey said, gently, and looking with sympathy at the poor mother's flushed cheeks.
"And now about Julia," cried Mrs. Thayer. "She is naturally a nice child; but she is copying all Esther's ways. And before I forget it, I want to consult you about an incident that occurred just before you came. Julia is very energetic, and oneday, when I was out, undertook to put my bureau in order. When I came in and found my room in an uproar—the bed, the floors, the sofa covered with heterogeneous masses of clothing—I was extremely displeased, and seized the child by the arm and marched her angrily out of the room. Whereupon she dropped a courtesy and said, 'Thank you, ma'am. You must have had a nice prayer-meeting!' I afterwards found that she had been preparing a pleasant surprise for me by putting my drawers in order. Ought I to say anything to her about it?"
"Yes, you ought to ask her pardon."
"Ask her pardon! Ask a child's pardon!"
"Why not? She has her individual rights as you have yours."
"But to degrade myself to a child of ten years!"
"To ennoble yourself in her eyes. The degradation was in losing your temper."
"Well—well—well!This home has got to be pulled all to pieces and built up again, if we are to follow your suggestions."
"Pull away," said Mrs. Grey, smiling; "the sooner the better. And now won't you let me see the little nursery people?"
Mrs. Thayer's face cleared as she led the way to baby and his brother, both large for their age.
"What splendid boys!" exclaimed Mrs. Grey.
"Are they not? And the others were just as fine, apparently."
Mrs. Grey took the baby from his nurse's arms and kissed it.
"I should think this room would be a city of refuge, with these innocent creatures in it," she said.
"Yes; doesn't itrestone to see little children before they are spoiled?"
"You speak as if spoiling was inseparable from development; as if life were intended to be all retrograde."
"Oh, I thought I should find you ladies here," said Mr. Thayer, entering the room. "Suppose we adjourn to the library."
"Let me take Mrs. Grey to my room first, to see the children's portraits."
Mr. Thayer assented, and they all proceeded thither.
Bob, Esther, and Julia had been grouped together and beautifully painted by an artistic hand.
"I never saw a finer face than Bob's," said Mrs. Grey, "nor sweeter ones than those of the girls; it is hard indeed to think such children can turn out ill."
"Yes," said Mrs. Thayer, "I little thought when these portraits were painted, how Bob was going to break my heart, and Esther refuse to obey."
"Mrs. Grey," asked Mr. Thayer, abruptly, "do you think that children properly trained, invariably turn out well?"
"There are exceptions to all rules. Some children seem to enter the world with such low tendencies thatno amount of wise training avails to uplift them. But no case is hopeless that can be carried to God."
"I want to ask one question more. Do you find us, as parents, exceptionally full of mistakes, and our children exceptionally bad?"
"I believe all parents make mistakes. They find out, sooner or later, that they cannot, of themselves, train their children right, and so cease making the experiment, and seek Divine guidance at every step. I see no evidence that yours entered this world materially more depraved than others. But whatever the case may be, you have no reason for discouragement, if you can once make up your minds to distrust yourselves and leave all to Him who giveth to all men liberally and upbraideth not."
Thus with line upon line and precept upon precept, Mrs. Grey tried to show to her eager listeners, that the first step towards reforming their children was a thorough reform in their own lives. She then took leave and gladly returned to her own peaceful home, where so many of her own rules had long been put in practice. Margaret was awaiting her in brilliant spirits, and everything settled down into the old routine; the one busy with scores of interests beyond her own; the other living in an imitation of her as yet remote, but yet original and unique.
Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Thayer found that it was no easy matter to change habits formed throughfourteen years, and still went on making mistakes. Yet a radical change was taking place in their souls, which the children soon began to feel and to comment on.
In the first place, Mr. Thayer began to speak to Bob with a kindly yearning in his voice that startled and puzzled the boy. It was plain that his resentment was over, and that he was feeling pity instead of anger. What could it mean? Bob was full of curiosity and anxiety. Did this tenderness portend some coming penalty of the law—perhaps? Was he to be sent to a Reform school, or to jail, or what? His mother changed too. Julia, between whom and himself a certain kind of intimacy existed, took him aside one day, and said:
"Does mamma look sick to you?"
"She looks as if she cried a great deal."
"But does she look as if she was going to die?"
"To die!" he repeated.
"Yes, to die," said Julia.
What heart lay developed under the lad's vest died within him. This, then, was the penalty that lay before him; his crime was to kill his mother!
"Who says she's going to die?" he asked, roughly.
"No one says so, but I know she is. Readthat."
Bob took the little note the child handed him, and read it in silence:
My dearly loved Julia:—
Not very long ago your energetic little hands undertook to arrange my bureau drawers for me. Coming in suddenly I misunderstood the disorder of my room, and drove you from it angrily. It was wrong; I am sorry for it; I have asked God to forgive me, and now I ask you to forgive your poor, faulty
Mother.
"I'll bet sheisgoing to die," said Bob. "Never knew her to do anything like that before. I've been an awfully horrid fellow. I wish I hadn't."
"I've been horrid, too," said Julia. "AndIwish I hadn't."
"You've been splendid compared with me," said Bob.
"Let's go and tell Esther," suggested Julia.
"What for? She won't care."
"You seem to think she's a heathen Chinee," said Julia.
"So she is, sometimes. But not always."
Esther was accordingly taken into confidence, and expressed a wish to box their ears for a pair of ninnies, until she read the note, which struck terror to her heart.
"I don't feel at all nice," she said. "Though I'm not as bad as many girls. I know Mrs. Mather pays Melville five dollars a month if she isn't saucy to her. And Jane Waite tells fibs. And Jemima Watsonthrew her mother's watch on the floor and stamped on it."
"What for?"
"Because she couldn't get an example right. Julia, I wish you hadn't shown me that note. It was real mean in you. You knew it would stick in my throat."
Meanwhile Mrs. Thayer was looking forward with anxiety to the day of Esther's proposed lunch party, and the storm that was to follow the announcement that she should not sanction it. Great, therefore, was her surprise when Esther came, voluntarily, to say, in a nonchalant way, put on to hide some real feeling, that she had changed her mind, and did not intend to invite the girls.
"I am very glad to hear it," was the reply, "for I did not intend to provide lunch save for the family, as usual, and you would have had to recall your invitations. Henceforth, when you wish for an indulgence of this sort, come and ask my consent."
The quiet dignity and firmness with which this was said, impressed Esther with such a sense of amazement that she was in no state to wage war.
The family leaf was thus turned over without signs of affray; yet, He who seeth in secret witnessed many a struggle with self and pride, and evil habits on the part of the parents. It is not so easy to own that one's whole theory of domestic life has been wrong; not a trifle to drop all querulous tones, sharp reprimands, and hasty penalties. Again and again they were tempted to try new theories; to imitate this and that successful experimenter; to go on searching books and other human counsel. But every such attempt ended in a failure, and at last they went together hand in hand, confided all their interests to God, and resolved henceforth to consult Him and Him alone in every emergency. And now they found rest of the sweetest kind, and a new influence was shed abroad in the house. It is simply impossible to live this life of trust without influencing children powerfully. The young Thayers were too young to be utterly spoiled, and gradually the new principles that controlled the parents began to act upon them. Rome was not built in a day, neither is a human character suddenly so formed. It took time and patience to undo the work so ill-done; but the Holy Spirit so often wooed was lovingly won. He came and brooded, like a peaceful dove, over the disordered household. There is not a more upright man in Wall Street than Robert Thayer. His character was ripened by the discipline of labor through which he had to pass while earning the means to restore the sum feloniously appropriated, and that one act of dishonesty was his last. For parental prayer stood between him and temptation; and through Heaven-taught wisdom his conscience is as tender as a little child. Esther is living a peaceful life of faith in a nursery of her own, and Julia's energies are legitimately spent in true Christian work. As to the three younger children, they never gave their parents, with all their natural depravity combined, an hour's heart-ache; they were not models and not prigs, but just happy, bright, lovable fellows who had heard very little about law, and a great deal about the Gospel; who knew how to fish, and gun, and garden, and play, and frolic, and also knew how to pray when the right time came. More might be said, with truth, but it never answers to paint too close to nature.
Those who do not understand the life of faith, fancy it to be all mysticism and effeminacy. But while it is mystical to the mere looker-on, to its possessor it is almost homely in its practical details; touching every point of life from worship to service, from service to worship, claiming the whole being for Christ, and spending and being spent for those whom He came to redeem.
Margaret wrote to Belle and to Laura about the new light and life that had come to her, though it cost her a great effort to do it. In reply, she received four or five pages from each; Belle wrote in great delight and earnestness, saying, she had never doubted for a moment that she was as safely in the ark as herself.
"Isn't it strange, darling," she went on, "that you did not see what I saw so plainly, that your love to me was really love to Christ? There is nothing in me to call forth such passionate devotion, and I knew it, all along; and how I have prayed that you might have the bliss of knowing that your Beloved was yours, and you His."
"'Bliss!'" re-echoed Margaret, "bliss is no word. It'sheaven!"
Laura wrote one of her lively, domestic letters, full of "Pug" and "Trot;" and Margaret, while enjoying it, wished she could, for once, get a glimpse into her soul. She was just returning the letter to its envelope, a little chilled, when she perceived a scrap upon the floor that had fallen from it. It contained these words:
"And thou maun speak o' me to thy God.And I will speak o' thee."
"Ah,she'sall right!" was Margaret's joyful thought. "I begin to think she's as good as Belle, only different."
A few days later, as she sat at her easel, she suddenly felt herself seized from behind, and squeezed by somebody's arms.
"Take care, or you'll get covered with paint," she said, as soon as she could speak, and in a moment more, saw Laura's bright face, and Pug and Trot in the rear.
"Where's mamma, you naughty child, you, and what do I care for paint?"
"Aunty has gone to the city to see a lady, or on the whole, two ladies, in some hospital."
"I'll warrant it. Well, the doctor said the children must have change of air, and so I've brought them home. Pug, put your arms round aunty Mag, and squeeze her till she can't breathe; and Trot, do you do the same!"
Margaret held out her arms, and the children sprang in.
"How good it is to feel your little arms," she said.
"I've just been hungry to see you. And I'm ever so glad to see you, too, Oney."
"Of course you are. Where's that good, old soul, Mary? Oh, here she comes! Well, Mary, how are you? We've come to make you lots of trouble. Haven't the children grown?"
"Why, yes, Miss, only Miss Laura is small for her age."
"So are you, Molly," cried Laura, laughing.
Mary laughed, too, and tried, furtively, to slip a bit of cake into the children's hands.
"Ah, at your old tricks, I see. Very well, if you undertake to make them ill you'll have to nurse them, that's all, for I am worn out."
"You do look completely used up," said Margaret, beginning to scrape her pallette.
"What are you doing, child?"
"Why, you don't suppose I am going to paint when my pets are here?"
"Nonsense! Their nurse is here. Now, I tell you, once for all, you shall go on exactly as if we were miles away. You say you are going to give each a picture at Christmas; and how are you going to do it if you let everybody hinder you?"
"I don't call Pug and Trot, 'everybody;' I can't do any more work to-day, anyhow."
"Well, you can to-morrow, for I am going to the Astor Library."
"To the Astor Library? What for?"
"I have a sudden thirst for information before I begin my book."
"Your book for mothers? Oh, Laura, the idea of going to the Astor Library about that!"
"Oh, that scheme fell through."
"What a pity! It was such an original one."
"So is sin. But one has to get rid of it."
"Did you write nothing at all?"
"I wrote a little bit. I'll show it to you when my trunk comes. I thought it was a capital idea, and was going to make mamma write a preface for it. How is she, anyhow?"
"Very well, if one may judge by her actions."
"I suppose that means being at everybody's beck and call."
"Yes; first, she had me to nurse, and then she went on a pilgrimage to a family of strangers."
"People she knew nothing about?"
"She knew they were in great trouble, and judged, by the letter they sent her, that they were respectable, more or less educated people."
"Here comes the dear old thing, skipping like a young roe!" cried Laura, who had been to the window half a dozen times. "Now Pug and Trot—goodness! whathavethey been about while we were talking?"
Sure enough, what had they been about. Each,armed with a brush, had been daubing away at Margaret's canvas—their hands, faces, and dresses all colors.
"Oh, Margaret! they've ruined your picture!" cried Laura, in dismay.
"Oh, Laura! they've ruined their dresses!" cried Margaret; at the same time her enthusiasm about the children cooled down not a little. Here was a week's work destroyed.
Meantime, Mrs. Grey entered on this scene of dismay, and she and Laura were too glad to see each other to pay much heed to the children. Margaret rushed off after a bottle of turpentine, and old Mary, and Laura's nurse; and between them all, and a bowl of soap-suds, decency was restored, and the little ones made presentable, though not fragrant. The unexpected scrubbing, and a faint sense that they had been in mischief, gave them a somewhat awe-stricken look, which gave way, when grandma kissed them, to relieved smiles.
"It's all my fault," said Laura. "I ought to have warned you that these creatures are always up to something. How much harm have they done to the picture?"
"Oh, never mind the picture," said Margaret, who was herself minding it a good deal, but was trying to wrench her heart back to the little culprits.
"I am delighted to have you come home, Laura," said her mother. "You look worn out."
"I dare say. But it's only want of sleep. I shall be all right in a few days. Pug and Trot are two little plagues, but somehow I didn't want them to die. Did I, poppets?" she said, pulling the children to her knee.
"Here's your trunk," said Margaret; and Laura flew off to pay the expressman, and to unpack it.
"You poor child," said Mrs. Grey to Margaret, as soon as Laura had gone, "your picture is ruined! And I must say you have borne it beautifully."
"It may have looked beautiful on the outside," replied Margaret, "but it wasn't at all so inside. I could have slapped the children, I was so provoked."
"Jean Paul says, that an angel, incapable of feeling anger, may well envy one who can feel, yet control it."
"I would run the risk of being an angel if I could," said Margaret.
Laura now returned with her arms full. "This shawl, mamma, I knit for you; also this afghan, which is to keep your dear old feet warm. And, Margaret, this Madonna is for you, chicken!"
"For me!" cried Margaret, flushing with delight. "Oh, it is worth a thousand of the daub the children spoiled. How came you to get it for me?"
"I couldn't help it. I can't love people and never give them anything. Dear me, what fun it would be to go through the streets and chuck something into everybody's hand!"
While this was going on, Pug, who had escaped from the nursery, was busy fumbling in his mother's pockets, and soon possessed himself of her purse, the contents of which, with a magnificent air, he went and poured into Margaret's lap. On perceiving this, Laura, with a peal of laughter, caught up the child and kissed him.
"Oh, Laura, how can you encourage Harry's mischief?" cried Mrs. Grey.
"He means no harm," said Laura. "He is a chip of the old block. He does nothing on the sly, but it is his instinct to give. This isn't the first time he has picked my pocket, is it, Pug, you young scamp? Oh, you needn't undertake to give it back," she ran on, as Margaret offered her the money. "I always regard it as providential when Pug robs me and never touches the trash he has given away."
Margaret looked embarrassed. Mrs. Grey shook her head.
"You needn't shake your head, mamma," said Laura. "You let me do this very thing when I was a child, and it did me good. You think my ways with the children all harum-scarum, but they are not. They are founded on philosophical principles. If there is anything I hate it's prig fathers, prig mothers, and prig children."
"I suppose there is no medium," said Mrs. Grey.
"There's no nice one," said Laura. "Well, now,about my book. It fell through—or, rather, it died of scarlet-fever."
"You promised to let me see what you had written," said Margaret.
"I'll read it to you and mamma. You could make nothing out of my scrawls. My idea, if you remember, was to write a receipt-book for young mothers, and you thought it a capital idea, mamma. But such things are easier said than done. I meant to classify everything under different heads, like a medical-book; and then when a mother wanted to know how to act, in an emergency, she could look at the index and find directions instanter. Now listen: