WHICH WAS THE GREATEST?
"Real glory
Springs from the silent conquest of ourselves."
THOMSON.
MARGIE was in high feather. She had been in Mrs. Eden's service six
months now, and had earned money enough to buy herself a tidy Sunday
dress, besides which Mrs. Eden had promised to raise her wages at the
end of that time, if she proved herself worthy. So having obtained
permission to go one afternoon to choose the dress, she started out
early after dinner, to join her mother, who had arranged to meet her at
Mrs. Eden's gate.
She was not in sight, however, when Margie stepped out, so she walked
on, expecting every minute to see the well-known bonnet and shawl in
the distance. But step after step had taken her past the farm where
Jack worked, which marked half-way, and still her mother did not come.
Margie began to grow uneasy lest she should have gone on without her.
She turned once or twice and looked back towards the farm, wondering
whether her mother had gone up to the house for anything, but she could
not see anything of her, and nothing remained but to go straight on. So
on Margie went, until she came in sight of the cottage.
"Mother must have forgotten all about it," she said to herself, as she
ran round the back door and through the wash-house.
But her mother had not forgotten, and Margie saw at once how it was,
as she entered the room. Mrs. Rust was sitting by the fire with little
Tommy on her lap, and Tommy did not even open his eyes at his sister's
approach.
Margie looked frightened.
"What is the matter, mother?" she cried, bending over him.
"I don't know," replied Mrs. Rust. "I've been up with him two nights,
but the doctor can't tell what's amiss with the child. He thinks it's a
chill."
"And you 'do' look tired, mother," said Margie. "Let me take him a bit."
Mrs. Rust shook her head. "Best not," she said, "in case of its being
anything catching."
"But you can't manage everything and nurse him too, mother," said
Margie, sitting down at a little distance. "I'd better come home and
help you, if Mrs. Eden would spare me."
Mrs. Rust shook her head again.
"That would never do," she replied. "You would lose your place, for
ladies won't be put out. I can't afford to have you at home. I must
manage as best I can."
"But you can't, mother," persisted Margie. "And Mrs. Eden is so kind, I
am sure she would spare me."
Mrs. Rust, however, declined to entertain the idea, repeating that with
sickness in the house, and the winter coming on, her father would not
want her on his hands.
"I shall be glad of your money, though, Margie," she added, "for if
Tommy gets better, please God, he'll want feeding up. Any way, there'll
be the doctor's bill to pay. So I'm afraid you must give up all
thoughts of your dress for the present."
Margie took out the money which she had carefully tied up in a corner
of her handkerchief, and laid it on the mantel-shelf without a murmur.
It was rather hard to have to part with it, after looking forward so
long to the pleasure of spending it. But Margie thought more about
Tommy than about that.
"Poor little fellow!" she exclaimed, looking tenderly at his sad little
face for a moment. Then, jumping up and pulling off her hat and jacket,
she asked: "Now, mother, what is there wants doing?"
And for the rest of the time that she could call her own, Margie did
not once sit down, so anxious was she to make things easy for her
mother.
Lilla looked almost more disappointed than Margie herself when the
latter returned and told her.
"What a shame!" she cried. "You ought to have your dress, Margie."
"But you see, Miss Lilla, mother wants the money. It's nobody's fault
that Tommy is ill."
"Well, of course, I didn't exactly mean 'that,'" returned Lilla. "But
you have worked for the money; it's your own, and you ought to have the
dress. Aren't you very vexed?"
Margie was forced to admit that she was sorry. "I thought I was going
to get on, like my cousin Charlotte," she said. "You should see her
clothes, Miss Lilla. All worked like any ladies. Such nice dresses,
too, and a Sunday hat as smart as yours. But it can't be helped. I
don't suppose I shall ever get on."
"It doesn't seem as if I ever shall, either," said Lilla. "So many
things come in the way that I've almost given up trying to be great.
And yet I can't help wanting to."
"Ah! It's different for rich people," sighed Margie. "The only way for
poor people to get on, is to work hard. Even then there's no chance of
their being 'great.'"
"But we're not 'rich,'" said Lilla. "That was why grandmother did
without a servant so many years."
"You're not 'poor,'" returned Margie, decisively. "You just try living
in our house for only a week, Miss Lilla."
Tommy's recovery was very slow. Even after he fairly took a turn for
the better, it was long before he had any appetite for any but the
daintiest food. Mrs. Eden was very kind, and often made tempting little
puddings for him. Sometimes Lilla would carry them to the cottage;
sometimes Mrs. Eden would spare Margie for a couple of hours in the
afternoon to run over and see how Tommy was. And on these occasions,
the good girl always spent the whole of the time in doing her utmost to
help her mother.
One afternoon on reaching home she found her cousin Charlotte sitting
by the fire. Margie had brought a little custard in a basket, and also
her week's wages, which she put down upon the table with some pride,
after greeting her cousin.
"Is that all you get?" exclaimed the latter, in a scornful tone.
"I think half-a-crown is very good for a first place," replied Margie,
a little astonished at Charlotte's contemptuous manner.
"Oh I if you're satisfied, I am," was the rejoinder. "But you'll never
get on at that rate."
"I only had two shillings a week, for the first six months," said
truthful Margie.
"Come, you've 'got on' sixpenny worth, then," sneered the other.
"And Mrs. Eden is so kind that I'm sure she would give me what is
right," continued Margie.
"You simple!" exclaimed Charlotte. "She's taken you in, has she? If
you'd asked more, she'd have given it. I wonder aunt isn't sharper."
"Mother is quite satisfied," said Margie.
And, as Mrs. Rust returned just then with Tommy in her arms, the
conversation dropped.
Charlotte had taken possession of the easiest chair, but she did not
attempt to give it up to her aunt, although the latter had the sick
child to nurse. Margie did not notice this, however, for the instant
her mother came in she jumped up and took Tommy.
And Mrs. Rust, apparently very glad of the relief, sat down to rest.
Presently she perceived the half-crown on the table.
"That is just what I was counting on, Margie," she said, putting it on
the mantel-shelf. "I had to take some of the rent money for Tommy's
medicine, and this will replace it."
Margie was too busy trying to amuse Tommy to remark the expression on
her cousin's face at these words. But a few minutes later, Mrs. Rust
went out into the wash-house to make the most of her time while Margie
could stay, and then Charlotte began.
"I say, Margie," she said, "I didn't think you were quite such a simple
as that! Do you mean to say that you give up all your money?"
"I've been obliged to since Tommy's been ill," replied Margie.
"How do you expect to get on, at that rate, you simpleton?" exclaimed
her cousin. "I tell you, I never gave up a penny of 'my' money from the
very first. And that's why you see me as I am."
Charlotte looked down at herself with a very self-satisfied air, and
Margie's eyes followed hers.
One glance was sufficient. Her outfit seemed perfect. Her hat was
turned up on one side with a jaunty air, and had a flashy scarlet
flower on the front. Her jacket fitted tightly to her figure, and
fastened over with a double row of bright buttons, whilst from under
the edge of her dark-blue skirt peeped one foot in a dainty walking
shoe and red stocking.
Margie was struck dumb for the minute, by so much finery, and did not
answer, but bent her head over Tommy, feeling almost ashamed of her
plain linsey gown.
"You'd like to get on, wouldn't you?" continued Charlotte, gratified at
the effect she had produced.
"Of course," answered Margie.
"Well; there's only one way," said Charlotte. "And that is to look
after number one."
"But how can I help myself?" asked Margie. "The rent must be paid."
"You've nothing to do with the rent once you're in service," said
Charlotte. "Why, you're not even eating your father's food now, and he
ought to have that much more money towards the rent. Take my advice,
Margie. If you give, you 'may' give; and that's all the thanks you'll
get."
And, snapping her fingers, she rose, and said it was time for her to be
going.
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