It might be that she was really happier with a companion of her own
age, or that she was shamed by Belle's example and kindness to her, or
perhaps it was both these causes; but day by day Belle found it easier
to be on good terms with her, and the two children were really growing
fond of one another.
Other things which had a good effect on Mabel were going to school
and being now and then with Maggie and Bessie. She could not but see
how much happier and lovelier were those children who were obedient,
gentle, and kind; and she learned much that was good without any direct
teaching. And even the "proverb-pictures" became to her what they were
intended to be to all, a source of improvement; for Maggie understood
better than Belle the art of "giving a lesson" without wounding the
feelings; and many a gentle reproof or wise hint was conveyed to Mabel
by means of these moral sketches, in which she really took a great
interest.
After the first novelty of school had worn off, Mabel tired of the
restraint and declared that she would go no more; but in the mean time
her father had arrived, and he insisted that she should keep on.
For some days after this she gave Miss Ashton a good deal of trouble,
and set at defiance many of her rules and regulations; but she soon
found that this did her no service, for Miss Ashton, gentle as she was,
would be obeyed; and Mabel did not find the solitude of the cloak-room
agreeable when she was punished by being sent there, and concluded
that, "after all, she had the best time when she was good."
She was not at all a favorite with her school-mates,--this fractious
and self-willed little child; and Belle had to "take her part" and
coax a good deal before she could persuade them to regard her with any
patience, or to feel willing to accept her as a member of their circle.
"What have you there?" asked Mabel one day, coming into Belle's nursery
and finding her looking lovingly at some small object she held in her
hand.
"It's my locket,--my new locket that papa gave me a few minutes ago,"
answered Belle.
"Let's see it," said Mabel, making a grasp at it; but Belle was too
quick for her, and would not suffer her to seize her treasure.
"You can't have it in your own hands," she said; "for it was my own
mamma's, and I don't want any one to touch it, 'cept they loved her.
Only Maggie and Bessie," she added, remembering that they had never
known her mother, but that she would by no means keep the choicest of
her treasures from their hands, feeling sure as she did that they
would guard what was precious to her with as much care as she would
herself.
"I'll show it to you, Mabel. Isn't it pretty?" and Belle held up a
small locket on a slight gold chain.
It was a little, old-fashioned thing, heart-shaped, and made of fretted
gold with a forget-me-not of turquoises in the centre. It was very
pretty,--in Belle's eyes, of the most perfect beauty; but its great
value lay in that it had belonged, as she told Mabel, to her own mamma
when she was a girl.
[Illustration: Belle Powers. p. 122.]
It was one of Belle's greatest pleasures to sit upon her papa's knee
and turn over with loving, reverent fingers the various articles of
jewelry which had once been her mother's, and which were to be hers
when she should be of a proper age to have them and take care of them.
"Mamma's pretty things" were a source of great enjoyment to her; and
although Belle loved dress as much as any little girl of her age, it
was with no thought of decking herself in them, but simply for
their own beauty and the sake of the dear one who had once worn them,
that they were so prized. And now and then when her papa gave her some
trifle suitable for her, she seldom wore it, so fearful would she be of
losing it, or lest other harm should come to it. So now, as things were
apt to come to harm in Mabel's destructive fingers, she was very much
afraid of trusting the precious locket within them; and stoutly, though
not crossly, refused to let her have it.
Mabel begged and promised, whined and fretted; but the locket was still
held beyond her reach, till at last she made a dive and had nearly
snatched it from Belle's hold.
But Daphne's eye was upon her, and Daphne's hand pulled her back as the
old woman said,--
"Hi! dere! none ob dat, Miss Mabel. I ain't goin fur see my ole missus'
tings took from my young missus, and me by to help it. I ain't goin fur
stan' dat, no way," and Daphne's grasp was rougher than it need to
have been as she held back the angry, struggling Mabel.
The child was in a great passion: she struck wildly at the nurse, and
screamed aloud, so that her mother came running to see what was the
matter.
"There then, never mind," said Mrs. Walton, as Mabel, released from
Daphne's hold, rushed to her and complained that Belle would not let
her touch her new locket,--"never mind, I will give you something
pretty to look at."
"I want a locket like Belle's to keep for my own," said Mabel; "and
then I'll never let her see it."
"Pooh! I wouldn't look at it," said Belle, forgetting all her good
resolves, "if you showed it to me. I'd just squeeze my eyes tight shut,
and never open them till you took it away. And I don't b'lieve the man
in the locket-store has any like this."
But Mabel had hardly left the room with her mother before Belle was
sorry, as usual, for the anger she had shown, and said remorsefully to
Daphne,--
"There now, I went and forgot the Bible proverb papa gave me, and
didn't give 'a soft answer' to turn away Mabel's wrath, but just spoke
as cross as any thing, and was real naughty. I'll just run after her,
and let her touch my locket very carefully with her own hands."
And away she went, ready to make peace, even by doing that which
was not pleasant to her; but the dear little thing was only partly
successful, for as Maggie afterwards said, when Belle told her the
story, "Mabel was of that kind of nature that if you gave her an inch
she took an ell;" and no sooner did Belle let her have the locket in
her own hands than she wanted to have it about her neck and wear it.
This was too much, even for the little peace-maker: she could not make
up her mind to give way in this, nor, indeed, could she have been
expected to do so; and quiet was not restored till Mabel's mother
was worried into taking her out at once in search of such a locket as
Belle's.
But the search proved quite fruitless, for no locket exactly like
Belle's could be found; and Mabel would not be satisfied with one that
was different. In vain did she and her mother go from jeweller's to
jeweller's; in vain did Mrs. Walton offer the spoiled child lockets far
more showy and costly than the one on which she had set her heart; in
vain did the shopman assure her that such as she desired were "quite
out of the fashion," an argument which generally went a good way with
Mabel: one just like Belle's she would have.
"Then we will have one made," said Mrs. Walton; and inquired when it
could be finished. But when the jeweller said it would take a week or
more, neither would this satisfy the naughty child, who was in a mood
that was uncommonly perverse and obstinate even for her.
"I shall have one to-day," she repeated; and was so very troublesome
that even the patience of her mistaken and spoiling mother at last gave
way, and the jeweller heartily wished himself rid of such a noisy,
ill-behaved customer.
However, Mrs. Walton gave the order, and promised to bring Belle's
locket for the jeweller to see the pattern on Monday, this being
Saturday; and then returned home with her naughty child.
Belle had gone out,--gone to Mrs. Bradford's to spend the day with
Maggie and Bessie, as she always did on Saturday; and Mabel was left to
whine and fret by herself till evening.
This gave her fresh cause of displeasure: she was vexed at her cousin
for leaving her alone, and when Belle returned she was greeted with,--
"Mamma is going to take your locket away from you on Monday, and take
it to the locket-man to make me one just like it."
"No," said Belle, backing from Mabel to her father's knee, and holding
fast with one hand clasped over the other upon the beloved locket, as
if she feared it was to be snatched from her at once.
"You'll let me take it to the jeweller for a pattern, dear: won't you?"
said her aunt. "Mabel wants one just like it."
Belle shook her head.
"No, Aunt Fanny," she answered: "I couldn't. It was my own mamma's, and
I couldn't let it go from me; and I don't want anybody to have one just
like it."
She did not speak unkindly or pettishly, but with a quiet determination
in her tone, such as she sometimes showed, and which in some cases
might seem to be obstinacy. But it was not so now; and it was evident
that the child had some deep and earnest reason for her refusal,--a
feeling that the little treasure which had belonged to her mamma had
something so dear and sacred about it, that it could not be suffered to
pass into strange hands, even for a time; nor could she bear to have it
copied.
"The locket-man didn't know my own mamma, Aunt Fanny," she answered
again to her aunt's persuasions: "maybe he wouldn't be so very gently
with it. I couldn't,--I really couldn't."
Tears gathered in the eyes of the sensitive little one as she spoke,
and there was a piteous tremble of her lip which forbade her aunt to
urge her farther; but Mabel was not to be so put off.
"You cannot have it, Mabel," said Mr. Powers. "I will not have Belle
troubled in this matter."
"What is it?" asked Mr. Walton, looking up from his evening paper, to
which he had until now given all his attention, too much accustomed to
the fretful tones of his little daughter's voice to pay heed to them
when he could avoid it.
The trouble was soon explained; and Mr. Walton, who had lately
awakened to the fact that his Mabel had become a most troublesome and
disagreeable child, and that it was time for her to learn that she
must sometimes give up her own will and consider others, told her that
she must think no more of this new whim; and that if she could not be
contented with such a locket as he might choose for her on Monday, she
should have none at all.
"Then I _won't_ have any at all," said Mabel, passionately. "And I
won't eat any breakfast or dinner or supper, not for any days."
"Just as you choose," said Mr. Walton, coolly taking up his paper and
beginning to read again; while his wife looked pleadingly at him, but
to no purpose; and Belle sat gazing in amazement at the child who dared
to speak in such a way to her father. Indulgent as Mr. Powers always
was to his motherless little girl, she knew very well that he never
would have overlooked such disrespect as that, nor could she have
believed it possible that she should ever be guilty of it.
Astonishment and indignation at this novel mode of treatment held Mabel
speechless and quiet for a moment; then she set up a roar which would
have been surprising as coming from so small a pair of lungs, to any
one who had not known her powers in that particular.
But here again Mr. Walton, who, as Belle afterwards told her papa,
seemed to be disposed to "turn over a new leaf about training up Mabel
in the way she should go," interfered, and bade her go from the room,
or be quiet.
She chose neither; and the matter ended by her father himself carrying
her away, and giving orders that she should be put to bed.
Belle was very sorry for all this, and could not help feeling as if
she somehow was to blame, although the matter of the locket was one
too near her little heart to be given up. But she went to her uncle
when her own bed-time came, and begged that she might go and wish Mabel
good-night, and be friends with her once more.
But Mr. Walton thought it better, as did Belle's own papa, that the
wilful child should be left to herself till the next day; and he
dismissed Belle with a kind kiss, saying,--
"Mabel will feel better in the morning, dear, and then she will be
ready to make friends with you; but just now I am afraid she is still
too naughty to meet you pleasantly."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
IX.
_BELLE'S MISFORTUNE._
Mr. Walton was sadly mistaken when he thought that his little girl
would have forgotten her ill-temper and be ready to be pleasant and
good-humored in the morning. Mabel awoke sulky and pouting, quite
determined to believe that Belle had grievously injured her, and
obstinately refusing to be reconciled unless she would consent to give
up the locket.
Had Belle been willing to do this, her papa and uncle would not have
permitted it; but, though Mabel was in a state of displeasure with the
world in general that morning, she chose to consider Belle as chief
offender, and treated her accordingly.
"But it's Sunday," said Belle, when she refused to kiss her for
good-morning.
"Don't I know that?" snapped Mabel.
"But I don't like to be cross with any one on Sunday," pleaded Belle.
"You're cross to me, and so I'll be cross with you,--Sunday and Monday
and every day," said the disagreeable child. "Now leave me be."
And Belle, seeing that Mabel was not to be persuaded into a better
temper, was forced to do as she said, and let her alone.
And all day, Sunday though it was, Mabel was even more peevish,
exacting, and troublesome than usual, till she was a burden and torment
to herself and every one about her.
When Monday morning came she was rather more reasonable, but still
persisted in being "offended" with Belle, and even refused to walk on
the same side of the street with her when they were going to school.
"Will you wear your new locket, Miss Belle?" asked Daphne when she was
making her little mistress ready for school.
"No, I guess not," said Belle: "something might happen to it, and maybe
it's too nice."
"I reckon it's not too fancy," said Daphne, holding up the locket and
looking at it admiringly: "you may wear it if you like, and mebbe Miss
Ashton would like to see it."
Now the locket was perhaps not quite a proper thing for Belle to wear
to school, and had her father been there he might have advised her to
keep to her first decision; but Daphne always liked to deck out her
little lady in all the finery she could lay her hands on, and, had
she not been held in check by wiser heads, would often have sent her
forth to school in very improper guise. And as Mabel was always very
much dressed, it chafed Daphne sorely to contrast the simple but more
suitable garments of her little Miss Belle with the showy ones worn by
her cousin.
So now she persuaded Belle to wear the locket, saying, not to the
child, but to herself, that it "was time folks foun' out her folks was
wort somethin', an' had plenty of pretty things if they on'y chose to
show 'em;" and, rather against the child's own better judgment, she
suffered the nurse to put the locket about her neck.
It was well for Belle, and for those who had the guiding of her, that
she was such a docile little girl, generally willing and anxious to
do that which she believed to be right, or she might have been sadly
injured by the spoiling of her devoted but foolish old nurse. As it
was, it did not do her much harm; and Daphne often felt herself put to
shame by the little one's uprightness and good sense.
However, on this morning Daphne had her way; and, as I have said, the
locket was put on.
As might have been supposed, the new ornament immediately attracted the
attention of all Belle's class-mates; and they crowded about her before
school opened, to examine and admire, with many an "oh!" and "ah!"
"how lovely!" and "how sweet!"
"Mabel, have you one too?" asked Dora Johnson; for the children had
found out by this time that if Belle had a pretty thing, Mabel was sure
to have one also.
"I'm going to," said Mabel, "one just like it: you see if I don't; even
if that cross-patch won't let the man have it to pattern off of. She
thinks herself so great nobody can have a locket like hers."
"Belle's not a cross-patch," said Lily Norris; "and, Mabel, if you talk
that way about her, we won't be friends with you, not any of the class.
Belle's old in the class, and you're new; and we don't think so very
much of you. So you'd better look out."
Mabel and Lily were always at swords' points; for Lily was saucy and
outspoken, very fond of Belle, and always upholding her rights, or what
she considered such.
"Belle's real selfish," muttered Mabel; "and you shan't talk to me that
way, Lily."
"God gave me my tongue for my own, and I keep it for just what words
I choose to say," said Lily, losing both temper and grammar in her
indignation; "and Belle's not selfish, but you; and most always when
peoples is selfish themselves, they think other ones are that ain't.
That's the kind that you're of, Mabel."
"Now don't let's quarrel," said Nellie Ransom, the prudent; "else Miss
Ashton will come, and send us to our seats."
"But, Belle, dear," said Dora, "what's the reason you don't want Mabel
to have a locket like yours?"
Belle told her story; and very naturally the sympathies of all her
class-mates went with her, and Mabel was speedily made to see that
she was thought to be altogether in the wrong, which did not tend to
restore her to good humor.
"I _shall_ take it to the locket-man for a pattern," she said angrily:
"you see if I don't. I'll get it, ah-ha."
"No, you won't," said Lily. "Belle knows you. She'll take good enough
care of it; and just you _try_ to snatch it now."
What would follow if she did, Lily plainly expressed in the threatening
shake of the head with which she accompanied her words.
Farther quarrelling or unkind threats were prevented by the entrance
of Miss Ashton, who called her little class to order, and school was
opened.
Miss Ashton had more trouble with Mabel that morning than she had had
any day since she first came to school. She was pettish and fretful
beyond all reason; elbowed and crowded the other children, pouted over
her lessons, and was disrespectful to her teacher, and once broke into
such a roar that Mrs. Ashton hastily opened the doors between the two
rooms and inquired into the cause of the trouble. This soon hushed
Mabel's screams; for the elder lady's looks were rather stern and
severe, and she at least was one person of whom the wilful child stood
in wholesome dread.
But though quiet was restored for a time, it was not to last long;
and this seemed destined to be a day of trouble, all through Mabel's
naughtiness. Miss Ashton called up the arithmetic class; and as they
stood about her desk, she saw Mabel and Lily elbowing one another with
all their might,--the former cross and scowling, the latter looking
defiant and provoking, and still half good-humored too.
"Children! Lily and Mabel! What are you doing?" she asked.
"Can't Mabel keep her elbow out of my part of the air, Miss Ashton?"
said Lily.
"For shame!" said the lady: "two little girls quarrelling about such a
trifle as that."
"But, Miss Ashton," pleaded Lily, "she sticks me so! She oughtn't to
take up any more room than that;" and she measured with her hand the
portion of empty space which according to her ideas rightfully belonged
to Mabel; while the latter, conscious that she had been wilfully
trespassing, had nothing to say.
"I am sorry that my little scholars cannot agree," said Miss Ashton.
"Mabel, stand back a little, and keep your elbows down, my dear. If you
cannot behave better, I shall be forced to send you into the other room
to my mother; and all the young ladies there will know you have been
naughty."
To be sent into Mrs. Ashton in disgrace was thought a terrible
punishment; and Miss Ashton had never yet had to put it in practice:
the mere mention of it was generally enough to bring the naughtiest
child to good behavior, and it was a threat she seldom used. But she
knew that the solitude of the cloak-room had quite lost its effect on
Mabel, and felt that some stronger measures must be taken if there was
to be any peace that day.
Mabel obeyed; but in spite of the threatened punishment, her temper
so far got the better of her that she could not resist giving Lily
a parting thrust with her elbow,--a thrust so hard that Lily's slate
was knocked from her hand and fell upon the floor, where it broke into
three or four pieces.
Now, indeed, Mabel was frightened; and the other children stood almost
breathless, waiting for what Miss Ashton would say and do.
She said nothing; what she did was to rise quickly, take Mabel by the
hand and turn to lead her to the other room.
Dreading she hardly knew what, Mabel was still too thoroughly terrified
at the prospect before her to rebel any farther, or to do more than
gasp out,--
"Oh! Miss Ashton! I won't do so any more! I didn't mean to! I will be
good!"
Miss Ashton did not answer, but drew her on; when Belle, dropping
her own slate beside Lily's, sprang forward and laid her hand on her
teacher, looking up with eyes as appealing as Mabel's.
"Please excuse her this time, Miss Ashton," she exclaimed. "I don't
think she did mean to break Lily's slate. She only meant to joggle her,
and the slate fell out of her hand; but I don't believe she meant to do
it. Try her just this once, dear Miss Ashton: maybe she will be good."
Miss Ashton looked down at the little pleader and hesitated. Truth
to tell, she had not known how terrible a bugbear her mother was to
her young flock: she was sorry now that she saw they had such a dread
of her, and perhaps was ready to seize upon an excuse to relent and
withdraw her threat.
"Oh! I will, I will be good! I'll never do so any more!" sobbed Mabel.
Miss Ashton turned about, and taking her seat placed Mabel in front of
her.
"Very well," she said. "I will excuse you this once; not because you
do not deserve punishment, Mabel, but because Belle begs for you. But
remember it is for this one time. If you behave again as you have done
this morning, I shall certainly punish you. And you must stand there
now and say your lesson apart from the other children."
Relieved from the dread of going to Mrs. Ashton, Mabel did not so
very much mind that, or the cold, displeased glances of the rest of
the class; but as she took her place, she cast a grateful look over
at Belle, to whom she truly felt she owed her escape; and Belle felt
quite repaid for the "love-charity" which had helped her to forget and
forgive Mabel's unkind behavior to herself, and to plead for her.
But the troubles which arose from Mabel's misconduct had by no means
come to an end. Belle's place in the class was just at Miss Ashton's
left hand, and when she dropped her slate it fell at the foot of the
lady's chair. It had escaped the fate of Lily's, not being even cracked
by the fall; but as poor little Belle stooped to pick it up, a far
worse misfortune than the loss of her slate befell her. As she raised
her head, the slight chain about her neck caught on the arm of the
chair, and the strain snapped it in two.
The sudden check and drag hurt Belle and left an angry red mark about
her neck, but she did not heed the sting as she saw chain and locket
fall at her feet.
She did not say a word, only snatched it up with a quick, long-drawn
breath, and stood for a moment looking at it with the utmost dismay and
grief in her countenance; while a chorus of sympathizing exclamations
arose from the other children. The mischief done was not so very great,
and could easily be repaired; but in Belle's eyes it seemed very
dreadful, and as though her treasure was very nearly, if not quite,
destroyed. Great tears rose to her eyes and rolled slowly down her
cheeks; and she turned to Miss Ashton, piteously holding out the locket
in her hand.
Miss Ashton hastened to bring comfort.
"Never mind, dear," she said cheerfully: "it can easily be mended. Tell
papa it was an accident, and he will have it done for you, I am sure."
"But now the jeweller man will _have_ to take it," said Lily,
indignantly; "and Belle didn't want to have it go 'way from her, and
it's all just for the way Mabel behaved. I should think a broken locket
and a broken slate were just about too much consequences of any one's
naughtiness and hatefulness for one day."
"Be quiet, Lily," said Miss Ashton.
"But it's true, Miss Ashton: it all came of that old Mabel's badness,"
persisted Lily.
"Lily, will you be quiet?" repeated her teacher.
Lily dared say no more; but borrowing a slate for the purpose from the
child who stood next her, she held it closely before her face, and
from behind that shelter made two or three grimaces at Mabel, which,
whatever relief they might afford her own feelings, did neither harm
nor good to any one else, as they were not seen.