MONA'S DEFEAT.
Next day was very wet and stormy, therefore Minnie could not go down to
see Mabel as she had intended, and the whole family were at home after
church.
"I say, Min," said Archie looking in at the parlour door, where Minnie,
Seymour, and Ned were each engaged in staring out at the rain as it
poured, and whirled, and beat upon the glass, as if in glorious
enjoyment of some long-meditated revenge. "I say, they are all out
down-stairs, and there's a jolly fire there. Let's go down into the
kitchen and eat apples."
"Will any of you come?" asked Minnie, turning to Ned and Seymour, who
hailed the prospect of such an advantageous exchange with delight, and
thither they repaired forthwith.
It was a great stone kitchen, with an immense fire-place, in which
blazed what Archie had with justice described as a jolly fire.
[Illustration]
"Why, this is the idea!" exclaimed Ned, as he settled himself
comfortably in his chair, and began on the apples which Archie piled
upon the table. "I never imagined a kitchen was such a jolly place
before--upon my word, I didn't. It fairly beats anything in the way of
drawing-rooms, dining-rooms, or parlours that ever occurred in my
experience, at least. Why did not we think of this before?" he demanded,
as he stretched out his long legs before the fire with an air of intense
satisfaction.
"O, we've often thought of it before, and done it too," answered Minnie
laughing. "Only you see it isn't always possible, as we can only do it
when the servants are out."
"Ah--um--just so," remarked Ned in a ruminating voice, "that's it, is
it? Well, couldn't we have another kitchen for them, and keep this one
for ourselves? I don't see any good reason why the best apartment in the
house should be expressly constructed and designed for the particular
delectation of the servants. I say it's a shame.'"
"You'd better enjoy it while you may," advised Seymour amid the laughter
of the other two. "And not spoil your digestion by grumbling. When _you_
have a house I have no doubt you will sit in the kitchen, and allow the
servants to occupy the drawing-room."
Ned viewed this new proposition with grave and philosophic aspect, for
the space of two minutes, and then gave it as the result of his
cogitation that he "didn't know but he should prefer that arrangement
after all."
Just then Charlie, guided by their laughter, came blundering down the
stairs, and not being familiar with the way, took a wrong turning, and
much to his astonishment found himself in an apartment, which was
evidently a store-room of some description. Hastily groping his way
back, he made an essay in another direction, and dived into a passage
which ultimately landed him in a coal-cellar. On returning from this
second unsuccessful expedition he discovered a door in the passage which
he opened. Merely pausing to assure himself that it wasn't a cupboard,
he stepped confidently out, and was precipitated into the kitchen, in a
manner more expeditious than dignified, or even comfortable.
"Good gracious! Whatever _can_ that be!" exclaimed Minnie, starting up,
and running to the rescue, while the others followed with various
appropriate and characteristic remarks of an ejaculatory description.
"O, don't disturb yourselves for the world--it isn't worth your
while--_now_!" they were assured in the familiar tones of Charlie. "A
nice set of people, you," he continued, when he had seated himself in
the chair Ned had vacated in his astonishment. "To sit here comfortably
and listen to a fellow searching about for the kitchen till it might as
well be in the North West Passage for all the chance he has of finding
it."
"We heard you come down stairs," explained Minnie when she could speak
again, the rest were too much overcome with amusement to offer any
observations whatever. "But we thought you had changed your mind and
gone back when you didn't make your appearance." And she went off into
another fit of merriment.
"Well, now that I _am_ here at last--my dangers and perils at an
end--won't any of you show your charity to a poor shipwrecked and
tempest-tossed mariner, by pitching over half-a-dozen of those apples?
Remarkably snug quarters these, to be sure! Quite worth the trouble I
had in finding them."
"No doubt," returned Ned, finding himself deprived of his comfortable
position, "when you manage to usurp another fellow's place. Remarkably
snug, indeed!"
"Glad to find you're of the same opinion, old fellow, I rather imagined
you wouldn't be so enthusiastic for a minute or so," and he settled
himself down in a still more comfortable position yet, and seemed to
enjoy himself greatly.
Ned, seeing that remonstrance was altogether useless, was forced to hold
his tongue, and hunt up another chair with the best grace he could
assume, after which Charlie gave an interesting account of his
adventures.
Then they conversed on different subjects, and soon their conversation
turned on the miner's dispute, and the scene their father had described
to them on the preceding evening.
"I'm sure _I_ said Min was a brick all along. I said they were all
bricks, didn't I?" exclaimed Archie, appealing to Minnie.
"To be sure you did," she corroborated. "But I don't know that they
would have regarded it as any great compliment, if indeed they would
have understood it as such at all, so I didn't apprise them of your
delicate attention--the girls, I mean." Archie pondered over this for
several minutes, and seemed to come to the conclusion that perhaps it
was better as it was, at any rate, he did not pursue the subject
further.
"Well, I must confess," remarked Ned, "that I never half believed there
was any practical use in Christianity till now."
"Practical use of Christianity," repeated Seymour, disdainfully, "the
commonest charity would have had the same result."
"And what is the commonest charity but the essence of Christianity?"
asked Minnie.
"Fiddlestick!" replied Seymour, irreverently. "Religion is based upon
the difference, in an ecclesiastical sense, 'twixt tweedledum and
tweedledee."
"Not the true religion of Christ," asserted Minnie, "not _my_ religion."
"Then what is your definition of religion?" asked Charlie, who had been
silent hitherto on the subject. "It deserves a voice, you know, since it
has 'justified its existence by its success' in the words of father's
favourite maxim."
"The religion of Christ does not justify itself by success," corrected
Minnie, "since it is in itself the fountain of justice as well as of
mercy, it requires no justification, but its adoption justifies all who
receive it."
"Well, but tell us what it _is_, according to your interpretation?"
"According to my interpretation, which is also that of the New
Testament," answered Minnie, "Pure religion and undefiled, is to visit
the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep one's self
unspotted from the world."
"Well, that's simple enough at any rate. Is that your whole confession
of Faith?"
"Yes, those are what I consider the duties of religion, but no one who
has really felt its power, could ever think of them merely as duties."
"You have shown us beyond dispute that you are capable of acting up to
the first proposition. Even I, who know little about it, can see that is
the easier of the two, how about the second?"
"There is only one way I know of fulfilling that requisition--I can't
help it if it seems absurd to you--to me it is the true and only one,
and that is by following closely the footsteps of that One who alone
trod the world without being corrupted by its evil."
Charlie considered a minute.
"Well, after all," he said, "there must be something in it. No amount of
reasoning, however sound, would have moved the turgid intellects of
those miners. I suppose that as long as minds of that calibre exist,
there must also exist a means of influencing them for good, which must
of necessity be the extreme antipodes of their own inclinations."
"I think I don't understand you very clearly," returned she, "but if you
mean, as I think you do, that Christianity is only to be tolerated for
what it can do in the way of working on the emotions of those who are
altogether governed by them, you are wrong. Its purpose is a far higher
one, that of awakening the conscience, and enlightening the darkened
understanding of such as these."
"And of what use is it to those who are already freed by other means
from that benighted condition?"
Minnie looked perplexed, and the tears began to gather slowly in her
eyes. It pained her to find her knowledge on the subject so limited.
"Charlie," she said tremulously, "I am but newly awakened myself out of
what you call 'that benighted condition,' through the influence of the
Gospel of Christ, and I don't know anything of the other means you talk
about. You know I am not much given to thinking, and I have never tried
to argue out these matters. I only know what it has done for me."
"And what is that?" asked Charlie.
"It has saved me from a frivolous, unprofitable life on earth, and a
death beyond the grave," replied Minnie, solemnly, "and what it has done
for me, it can do for all who are willing."
She paused a moment, but as nobody spoke, went on: "I don't imagine that
it has the same effect on everybody, it can't, of course, as everybody
isn't alike, but it must make a change of some kind, even in people who
live the best lives outwardly, before they realize the power of
religion, live only half-filled lives, however much work they may do--as
Mrs. Browning says--'Nor man, nor nature satisfies whom only _God_
created.'"
"That's just where Minnie has us, _I_ think," put in Seymour at this
juncture, "If you all feel as I do, you must acknowledge that there is
something within us which isn't of a piece with the corruptible part of
our nature--something that craves for an object to worship and pour
itself out to, and yet nothing on earth is perfect enough to satisfy."
"I suppose you mean the soul," observed Ned.
"Nay," replied Seymour, "that is what I would call the spirit, and if
so, it cannot be of the earth--it must be supernatural. It cannot be a
substance, and therefore it cannot be killed or subjected to any of the
forms of corruption or extinction to which mundane objects are liable."
Just at this point they were interrupted by the entrance of two of the
servants, and they were obliged to exchange their quarters for the
drawing-room, where the conversation was not resumed. On the next
afternoon, however, as Minnie was alone in the parlour, Archie came in,
and leaning on the back of her chair with one arm round her neck, began
in his usual impulsive fashion. "I say Minnie, Ned and I were talking it
over--you know, what we were talking about last night--well, we had a
long talk after we went to bed and we both came to the conclusion that
since we always intended to go in for it some time, and knew that we
could not face death without it, it would be a mean and cowardly thing
to make a rush for it just at the end, and so we're determined to try
for it at once."
Minnie's heart gave a great throb of joy at these words, and a torrent
of thanksgiving went out from it for this answer to her unceasing
prayers on her brothers' behalf; nevertheless, she was a good deal
perplexed about the queer ideas he seemed to entertain on the subject,
especially as he did not seem to have the ghost of a notion as to how he
was to "make a try for it," as he expressed it.
Just at this point Mabel came in, and Minnie, for the first time in her
life, regretted her friend's presence, fully expecting Archie to
disappear as he usually did when any of her friends visited her. But
this time Archie did not move, and after a minute he said "Does not Miss
Chartres go down to Hollowmell with you? I think Seymour said she was
with you the night you went with Charlie?"
"Yes," answered Minnie, wondering what was coming next.
"Then she won't be annoyed if we go on with what we were talking about.
You see," he said turning to Mabel, "I can't bear to leave anything half
done, and I don't see how I'm to get through this without Minnie's
help."
Mabel apologised for interrupting them, and begged that they would not
mind her presence at all.
"O, but we shall," said Archie smiling, "for perhaps you may help
us--me, at any rate, to understand what Minnie is trying to teach me."
"And what may that be?" enquired Mabel, "I am afraid there is little
hope for my success if Minnie fails."
"The way to Heaven," replied Archie without a moment's hesitation. To an
ordinary observer her face would not have displayed any emotion, but the
boy's keen eyes noticed how the shadows deepened in hers, and that her
voice trembled a little as she answered that no one was better able to
do that than Minnie.
"Well, I'm not so sure of that," he remarked, "Minnie has not had any
difficulties herself, you see, and she can't understand how any one else
can have any either. As she says herself she just took the salvation
when it was offered her and God did the rest. That's easy enough--or
looks so at the first glance, but when you come to try it, why, there's
nothing more difficult in the whole world. It's just like Columbus and
his friends turned the other way. They said it was impossible at first,
and when he showed them they cried 'How easy!' we think, 'How easy!' But
when we come to try we find it almost impossible."
"And soon," interrupted Minnie, "you will be wondering at yourself
because you did not see it immediately."
After this the three had a long and earnest conversation, but Archie did
not seem to get any nearer a solution of his difficulties, and at last
decided to go in search of Edward Laurence, who might help him he
thought.
Minnie was a good deal disappointed that she could not make things clear
to Archie, but feeling assured by his earnestness that he would not long
remain in the dark, she brightened up, and gave Mabel an account of how
the strike had been averted.
Mabel's delight at this good news was in no way less than Minnie's had
been, and for the first time since its occurrence, Minnie allowed
herself to taste the fruit of her labour.
"And O, Mabel!" she exclaimed when they had talked about it till she
felt it was too dangerously pleasant. "I didn't think of it before, but
now the hall won't be needed for any more miner's meetings, so I suppose
_we_ may have it now."
"I should think we shall be able to get it easily enough," agreed Mabel,
"What a deal of good has grown out of our little venture."
"Yes, is it not splendid to think of--and oh, don't you think we might
go round to Rowson's to-night and secure the hall?"
"I think we might, the sooner it's settled the better."
They were soon ready, and walked slowly along, enjoying the sweetness of
the lovely evening. Not far from the door they met Archie coming at a
terrible pace, his face as bright and glowing as the sunset sky; without
stopping to consider that he was on the public road, or regarding the
amused look of passers-by, he caught Minnie round the neck and kissed
her, and would in all probability have done the same to Mabel, if
Seymour had not come up at that moment, and demanded of him what he
meant by "making such an ass of himself."
Unabashed by Seymour's description of his conduct, Archie replied that
Minnie understood him, and did not object, which statement she instantly
corroborated.
He next enquired where they were going, and on their errand being
explained both boys volunteered to accompany them, being of opinion that
they were better fitted to carry out arrangements of such a nature than
young ladies in general--a view which Mabel and Minnie both warmly
protested against.
"But I think you had better go home, Archie," said Minnie with a look
which he was not slow to interpret and respond to.
"All right!" he replied cheerfully. Then in an undertone as Seymour and
Mabel walked on, "you understand, Min, it _is_ all right."
"Yes dear, I understand, and I _am_ so glad," she returned in such an
affectionate voice, that Archie was moved to kiss her again, and then
she ran off after the other two, feeling that her heart was almost too
full of happiness.
When the trio arrived at Mr. Rowson's he was out, but they were desired
to wait for his coming as he had left word that if any of the young
ladies from the Hollow called, he wished particularly to see them.
Accordingly, they sat down as requested, and in the course of ten
minutes the gentleman himself appeared.
"I suppose you have come about the hall," he observed, addressing
Minnie, after they had exchanged greetings.
"Exactly," she replied, "we guessed it would be vacant now, as the
miners' dispute is settled."
"Thanks to you and your kind-hearted friends," put in the little man,
smiling at the two girls who blushed violently.
"I am sure," he continued, turning to Seymour, "it would be quite a
pleasure to let the hall to these young ladies for any purpose, but most
of all for the purpose they have in view, and not to be behind hand in
doing a good turn when I can, I must beg of you to accept the use of the
hall for that day as a present." And he stopped breathless and
perspiring from his unwonted exertion.
At first neither Mabel nor Minnie would hear of Mr. Rowson's proposal,
and protested that they would rather pay for the hall, till Seymour, who
had until now been a mere spectator of the proceedings, came to Mr.
Rowson's aid who was by this time in a state of hopeless perspiration.
"Come, come, young ladies!" he said. "Do try to reduce yourselves to an
ordinary level. Be a little more sensible, and a little less quixotic.
Does it not occur to you that it is perhaps a little selfish, trying to
secure the monopoly of charity to yourselves, and leaving others who too
would like to do something in that way out in the cold?"
"But--" Minnie began, and then she came to a standstill, quite overcome
by the last most ingenious argument.
Seymour laughed, so did Mr. Rowson, so did Mabel, and finally so did
Minnie herself, and thus the matter was amicably settled.
Seymour and Minnie walked home with Mabel, and when they had left her at
her own door, as they strolled slowly home, Seymour remarked, "What a
quiet, sensible little woman your friend is--as different as possible
from you; how comes it that two such extremes manage to get on so well?"
"Thanks for your good opinion! It's quite flattering to be classed as
the extreme opposite of quiet and sensible," was the only reply
vouchsafed by Minnie with a great show of offended dignity.
Seymour laughed, and remarked that often "people with a great deal more
sense didn't put it to nearly such a good use."
Whereat Minnie assumed a slightly molified air, and observed that now he
was disparaging himself--a piece of humility which he altogether
repudiated.
Next morning there was a great deal of rejoicing among the girls, who
were in early enough to hear Minnie's news, and some few, who had
hitherto held back fearing public ridicule, were now eager to join
them, finding they were regarded, not only with toleration, but even
with approbation by the general public.
Mona Cameron was not among the number, though in her heart she would
gladly have been there. She had many times longed to join them, and was
even now only kept back by her pride, and the conviction that it would
degrade her to place herself in the ranks and acknowledge Minnie
Kimberly as her head and leader as the other girls cheerfully did,
although Minnie herself had placed Mabel in the position of command, and
loyally insisted on her approval being necessary to the most trivial
arrangement.
On this morning it happened that Mona was in early, and was obliged to
listen to the happy chatter of the girls as they discussed their plans
with a zest and good-humour such as seldom prevails when a company of
girls have under discussion a subject on which each has her individual
and separate ideas, and is anxious to see them carried out.
Mona sat apart, feeling very much annoyed with herself for caring at all
about "charity organizations," and yet caring all the more, listening
eagerly to every different suggestion--rejecting this one in her own
mind, and approving that, or improving it, as the case might be, by
tacking on some neat little amendment evolved from her own clever brain.
All of a sudden, these several proceedings were brought to a standstill
by the entrance of the Principal and teachers rather sharper to the
minute than was the usual custom of the school.
Immediately after the opening exercises, Miss Marsden produced from an
envelope in her hand, a large blue paper, and announced that she had
that morning received the result of the examination, and would now read
it to the school, as it was probably a matter of interest to all, though
only two of their number had taken part in it, and might possibly act as
a stimulus to others to follow their example.
She then proceeded to read the list at the head of which stood Mona
Cameron, followed by Minnie Kimberly--a circumstance which was simply
the fulfilment of the general expectation; but the announcement of
Mona's name as the taker of the Latin prize was a matter of astonishment
to all, and rather a blow to most of them, as it had been confidently
expected that Minnie would take it, and to no one did it afford greater
surprise than to Mona herself. The flush of triumph on her face deepened
for a moment on hearing this second piece of news, but it faded quickly
as she remembered Minnie's translation.
"Prize-taker or no prize-taker," she muttered to herself, "Minnie's
translation was worth a dozen of mine." And her sense of justice
revolted against the decision, whosever it might be; moreover, Mona did
not care much about the prize she did not care to have the name of being
first merely, her ambition was to _be_ first, and feel herself first.
She knew in her own heart that in this matter she was far behind Minnie,
and was therefore far from being satisfied, although any of the girls
would have said she certainly ought to be.
She received her music lesson from Miss Marsden herself so when the
hour arrived she resolved to speak to her on the subject, and did so.
"I can't make anything of Minnie," replied Miss Marsden to her query,
"she showed me her translation--one which would have been no shame to a
graduate in Classics, and forgive me, Miss Cameron, greatly superior to
yours.
"She said that she showed me it simply to assure me that it was not
through idleness she declined to enter the Latin competition. I was
naturally anxious to know what motives influenced her in this course,
but she would give me no satisfaction on that point. She merely said she
did not intend to send it, that was all.
"I reasoned with her," continued the Principal, "and used every argument
I could think of to induce her to change her mind, and finally
represented to her that it was her duty to consider the interests of the
school as well as her own feelings. She became quite distressed at this,
and assured me she had made every effort in her power to make a
creditable appearance, but she _could_ not alter her determination in
this case.
"I saw that further remonstrance would only pain her and could not
effect my purpose, so I said no more, but allowed her to have her way."
Mona looked almost incredulous for a moment, and then without a word
went on with her music. She thought she had discovered Minnie's motive.
When she entered the schoolroom again, she secured a seat beside Mabel,
and launched at once into the subject uppermost in her mind.
"Well, Mabel," she began, "what do you think of the result of the
examination?"
"I don't know that I have thought much about it at all but I do not see
how the result could have been different."
"Ah, then, I was right in supposing you to be aware of Minnie's
intention not to send that Latin translation?"
"Yes, I did know of it," replied Mabel.
"And why then, in the name of justice, did you not prevent her carrying
out that intention?" demanded Mona, impatiently, almost forgetting her
object. "Surely you might have used your well-known influence better!"
"Nothing would have induced her to give up her determination," replied
Mabel, quietly, "and I would have been the last to advise her to do so,
seeing she made it a matter between herself and her conscience."
"Oh!" exclaimed Mona, recollecting herself, "That is just what I want to
know about. What was her real reason? you know she did not give any to
Miss Marsden. Don't be afraid to tell me, I have no sinister motive in
asking it, I merely wish to do Minnie justice."
Mabel glanced at her in some astonishment before she replied. "I am not
sure that the reason she gave to me was her real one," she said, "at
least, I think it was only a part of it. However, I will tell you what
she gave to me as such. She said that she had studied Latin so long with
her brothers, that she would be able to place any one at a disadvantage
who was obliged to study it alone. She considered that she occupied a
rather unfair position with regard to you particularly, and probably
also to many of the others who would take part in the examination.
"I think she was pretty sorry about it, for I can assure you, she spared
no pains on that translation, and was very proud of it. I remember how
regretfully she looked at it, when she told me she was not going to send
it after all, and then laughed and said she should be satisfied with the
power to do it, even if no one knew about it but herself."
"I am sure I would if I had been Minnie," remarked Mona. "No, I wouldn't
either--I would have liked it to be known and appreciated--but I
wouldn't have cared for the prize in comparison with the translation
itself. But have you no idea about the rest of her reason? That isn't
the whole of it, as you say."
"Well, I have my own ideas," admitted Mabel, "but I don't consider
myself at liberty to give expression to them, even as conjectures."
"Then I _am_ right!" exclaimed Mona, triumphantly, "I have got on to the
right track at last, and you will see what I shall make of it. Mabel,"
she continued earnestly, "you can't think how miserable I have been all
this while about my conduct to Minnie. Often I have been on the point of
giving in and acknowledging how wrong it was, but my pride has always
stood in the way and dared me to do it. I don't think I am a coward in
most things, but I am a perfect dastard before that, my worst enemy. I
think he is down now, though, and if I can help it, he'll never recover
from the defeat Minnie has administered to him this morning."
Mabel did not know very well what to say in reply to this confession.
She felt very much inclined to get up and embrace Mona on the spot, a
most uncommon circumstance with our calm, quiet, undemonstrative Mabel,
but it being within school hours, and consequently such an exhibition
being altogether out of the question, she merely slipped her hand into
Mona's and gave it a hearty squeeze which was cordially returned by
Mona, at the same time furtively wiping some imperceptible spots of dust
off her cheek, while she narrowly examined the points of her compasses
which she still held in her hand.
"Don't say anything," whispered Mona, after a long pause, "I'll manage
it myself."
"Very well," agreed Mabel, as she rolled up her work and went out.
Mona was determined to do what she had made up her mind to do,
thoroughly, and to do it at once, before her purpose began to cool, and
perhaps die out all together. Accordingly, she watched diligently for an
opportunity to speak to Minnie, which seemed to be a particularly
difficult matter to obtain that afternoon; but at last her perseverance
was rewarded by the sight of Minnie alone in the dressing-room.
She was rummaging about in her jacket-pocket for something, and started
slightly when she became aware of Mona's presence. She did not speak,
but continued her search, and Mona looked at her wistfully for a moment,
not knowing how to begin--her carefully prepared appeal having vanished
as if by magic.
"Minnie," was all she could falter out, "I--have been so--so--unjust to
you--always. Can you forgive me?"
For the space of a minute Minnie stood gazing at her in sheer amazement,
and then with impulsive swiftness flung her arms round her neck,
whispering, "Oh, Mona, I am so glad we may be friends at last."
Mona forgot all about the Latin translation, and Minnie's motive in
connection with it--forgot everything in her new friendship, and not
till many days after did she recur to the subject.
The girls were all dying of curiosity to know the history of the
wonderful alliance between the quondam enemies and rivals, but neither
Mona, nor Minnie, nor Mabel, who alone knew any of the circumstances
connected with it, uttered a word of explanation, so they were fain to
accept it as it stood.
Mona entered heart and soul into the arrangements for the floral
entertainment, and won the admiration as well as the gratitude of all,
by the remarkable genius she displayed in the creation of novel devices,
and before unheard-of improvements in their plans.
She had evidently made good use of her time during her self-imposed
banishment from their councils; she had listened to all their plans and
revised and improved them in her own mind, using up every little atom of
good suggestion till she had perfected and rounded them to her own
satisfaction, which was a much harder matter to gain than the
satisfaction of the young ladies to whom she had now the opportunity of
propounding them, indeed, it was a matter of such universal
congratulation when Mona Cameron joined them that, had Minnie been just
a little less anxious for the good of others, and a little more desirous
of her own glorification, she would certainly have become jealous of
Mona's new-found popularity. But Mona was at this time a good deal
softened by the ordeal of humiliation through which she had passed,
albeit, the ceremony was performed before only one witness, and did not
feel any great inclination for the applause with which her efforts were
invariably greeted.