THE EBONY CHAIR.
For a few weeks everything went smoothly. Marty attended the meetings of
the band, in which she took great interest, and put two or three pennies
in her box every Sunday morning. But there came a time when she began to
find it hard to give even that much. There seemed to be so many little
things she wanted, and it was just the season of the year when she had
very few presents of money. She generally got some on her birthday, in
August, and again at Christmas; but as she could not keep money very
well, that was soon spent, and during the latter part of the winter she
was very poor. Once or twice nothing went in the box but the strict
tenth, and once she had a hard struggle with herself before even that
went in; in fact, she had a very bad time altogether. It was all owing
to a tiny chair.
"O girls!" exclaimed Hattie Green, one day at recess, "have you seen
those lovely chairs in Harrison's window?"
"What chairs?" inquired the girls.
"Oh, such lovely little dolls' chairs! Carved, you know, and with
_beautiful_ red cushions. I came by there this morning, and that's the
reason I was late at school, I stopped so long to look at those cunning
chairs."
"Let's all go home that way," suggested Marty, "and then we can see
them."
"All right," said Hattie.
So after school quite a crowd went around by Harrison's toy-store to see
the wonderful chairs.
There they were, rather small, to be sure, but ebony--at least they
looked like ebony--and crimson satin. The girls were in raptures with
them.
"They are beauties!" cried Edith.
"How I should love to have one!" said Marty.
"I wonder how much they are," said Rosa Stevenson.
"You go in and ask, Rosa," said Edith.
"Yes, do, do," urged the others.
Rosa went, and came back with the information that they were twelve
cents apiece.
"Well, that isn't so much," said Edith. "I think I can afford to get
one. I'll see when I go home."
"I know I have enough money to buy one," said Rosa, "but I never buy
anything without asking mamma about it first."
"She'll let you get it," said Edith.
"Oh, you girls always have some money saved up, and I never have,"
sighed Marty. "And I do want one of those chairs so badly."
"So do I," said Hattie, "and I haven't any money either, but I'm going
to tease mamma night and day till she gives me twelve cents."
"It's no use to tease my mamma," said Marty. "If she wont let me do a
thing, she wont, and that's the end of it. But of course I'll tell her
about the chairs, and see what she says. Maybe she'll let me have one."
As soon as she reached home Marty gave her mother a glowing description
of the chairs, winding up with,
"And, O mamma! I do want one awfully."
"But you have so many playthings already, Marty," objected her mother.
"Just look at those closet shelves! Besides, you got a complete set of
dolls' furniture Christmas."
"Oh, I know I don't _need_ another chair at all, but those red ones are
so cunning, and one would look so well mixed in among my blue ones. I
should _love_ to have one."
"I am sorry your mind is so set on it," said Mrs. Ashford, "for I
dislike to have you disappointed, but when you have so many playthings,
I really don't feel like giving you money, even if it is only a
trifle."
"May I buy a chair if I have money enough of my own?" Marty asked.
"Oh, yes--if you wish to spend your money that way; but I would rather
save it for something else if I were you."
Marty had no very clear idea where "money of her own" was to come from
just at that time, but thought it possible the necessary amount might
appear before the chairs were all sold.
The next morning Rosa and Edith came to school with money to buy chairs,
and at recess all their special friends went with them to Harrison's to
make the purchase. When Marty had a nearer view of the chairs and
handled them, she was more anxious than ever to possess one. This
anxiety increased as the days passed and the chairs gradually
disappeared.
Nobody gave her any money and her mother did not offer her any more
"paid" work. She was very, very sorry that she had spent all of her
allowance on Monday morning--at least all but two cents and the one in
the red box. That, of course, she took with her to the meeting Saturday
afternoon.
Saturday evening she received her next week's supply, and that, with the
two cents she had over, was exactly enough to get the longed-for toy.
But one cent was tenths.
"That just spoils the whole thing," she said to herself. "I might as
well have none at all as only eleven cents."
Then she wondered if it would not do to borrow that tenth. She had not
thought of taking out any of the money when she was in such straits
about Cousin Alice's ribbon, but this seemed different. It was only one
penny, and she was sure of being able to replace it.
But borrowing was against the rule, and it must be especially wrong to
borrow missionary money. She felt ashamed and her cheeks burned when the
thought came to her.
"I s'pose I'll have to give up the chair," she sighed; "at least unless
I get a little more money somehow. I wish papa wasn't so strict about
borrowing. A penny wouldn't be much to borrow."
Sunday morning she took out her money and counted it over again very
carefully. Yes, there was exactly twelve cents. Then she slowly took up
one cent to drop in the box. As she did so the temptation to borrow it
came again.
"No, I wont do that," she said resolutely, but after looking at the
penny for a while, concluded not to put it in the box until after she
came from Sunday-school.
After Sunday-school she tried it again, but still hesitated.
"I'll wait till bedtime," she thought.
By bedtime she had decided not to put it in at all.
"I b'lieve I'll borrow it. It wont do any harm to let the box go empty
for one week. I'll get the chair to-morrow, and make the tenth all right
next Sunday."
So she got into bed and covered herself up, but she could not go to
sleep. She tossed and tumbled for what seemed to her a long time. "It's
all because that penny isn't in the box," she thought. Finally she could
stand it no longer. She got up, and feeling around in the drawer, found
the penny and put it in the box. Then she went to bed, and was soon
asleep.
Having decided she could not have what she so ardently desired, Marty
should have kept out of the way of temptation, but every day she went to
look at the chairs, and seeing them, she continued to want one. By
Thursday they were all gone but two, and Hattie triumphantly announced
that at last her mamma had given her money to buy one. Then Marty felt
that she _must_ have the other.
When she had her wraps on that afternoon ready to go out to play, she
went to the missionary box, and, with hands trembling in her excitement,
took out the solitary penny. Then without stopping to think she ran down
stairs. Just as she was opening the street-door she repented, and after
meditating a while in the vestibule, standing first on one foot and then
on the other, she slowly retraced her steps and put the penny back.
"Now it's safe," she said. "I'll just dash out without it, and of course
when I haven't got it, I can't spend it."
She dashed about half way, when all at once the vision of the lovely
chair rose up before her, and the desire to possess it was greater than
ever. She stopped again to think, and the result was, she returned and
got the penny--it was not quite so hard to take it out the second time
as it was the first--and started for the street once more.
Perhaps she might have repented and gone back again, had not her mother,
who was entertaining some ladies in the parlor, called to her, "Marty,
don't race up and down stairs so," and then Marty went out with the
penny in her hand.