considered a most important part of female education. She had always
taken care that Lucy should spare enough time from her more congenial
studies, to learn at least to sew neatly.
"Why, Stella!" Lucy exclaimed, "you're almost as bad as poor Nelly,
who said she had never learned to sew because 'nobody had teached
her.'"
"I've never had time to learn. I like embroidery better; and mamma
said we should never need to do plain sewing, so she didn't see the
use of our taking up our time with it."
"No one knows what she may have to do," remarked Mrs. Steele gently.
"It is always best to know how, at any rate."
"Well, I hope I shall never have to, for I should hate it!"
However, when Lucy was fairly at work on the little frock, Stella
good-naturedly offered to help her a little, though, never having been
trained to perseverance in anything, her assistance was not very
efficient.
Bessie Ford had gone home from Sunday school with her head turned by
hearing some foolish talk about her dress. Alas! how often it is that
Sunday scholars, on leaving the school, instead of giving one thought
to the divine truths they have been hearing, allow their attention to
be absorbed with the petty frivolities in which their thoughts run
wild!
"Mother," said Bessie, after she had duly announced the intended
picnic, "can't I have a new pink sash for my white frock? Nancy Parker
is going to have ever so many new things."
"No, child," said her mother, "you don't need a new sash. Your frock
looks quite well enough without one. But I've been thinking you'd be
the better of a new hat, for the one you have looks a little brown.
And as you've been a pretty good girl, and a deal less forgetful of
late, I wouldn't mind getting you a new hat, if you'll hurry and
finish up that plain sewing you've had in hand so long. It's time it
was done and put away."
Bessie looked a little disappointed. The new hat was not so attractive
as the sash would have been. Suddenly her mother's remark on the
brownness of her hat suggested the image of Nelly's tattered, dingy
one, which she had noticed that afternoon.
"What would you do with my old hat, mother," she said, "if I get a new
one?"
"I don't know. You've your sun-bonnet for wearing about the farm. Put
it by for Jenny, perhaps," suggested the thrifty Mrs. Ford.
"Might I give it to Nelly Connor, mother? Hers will hardly stay
together."
Mrs. Ford had never seen Nelly, but she knew something of her forlorn
situation. "I'm sure," she said, "I shouldn't mind if you did. I dare
say it would be charity to her, poor thing." And it occurred to her to
think whether she, a well-to-do farmer's wife, had been as abundant in
deeds of charity as she might have been.
Bessie considered the matter settled, and next day set to work with
renewed zeal on the "plain sewing," which had been getting on very
languidly; for Bessie was not fond of long, straight seams, or of
sitting still for any length of time. She set herself a task as she
took her seat under the spreading butternut-tree; and Jenny and Jack
came to beg for "a story." Bessie's story-telling powers had been
largely developed of late, to make the Sunday lessons she had begun to
give the restless little things more palatable to them. Only the
promise of "a story" could fix their attention long enough to commit
to memory a simple verse. And her powers once found out, she soon had
demands upon her for stories to a greater extent than her patience was
always equal to satisfying.
Bessie had become, as her mother had noticed, much more thoughtful of
late. Her card, hung up in her room, kept always before her mind her
resolution to "look to Jesus" for help to live to please Him. And
though she still often forgot and yielded to temptation, yet, on the
whole, she was steadily advancing in that course in which all must be
either going forward or backward. Her mother noticed that this decided
improvement dated from the day when she had brought home the card,--a
day which had not been without influence on herself,--although, when
worldly principles have been long suffered to hold undisputed sway,
it is difficult at once to overcome old habits; and lost ground is not
less hard to retrieve in spiritual than in earthly things.
Bessie was still diligently working at her "task," when she saw Nancy
Parker running up across the fields.
"Oh, Bessie," she said breathlessly, "get ready and come right away.
My cousins have come to spend the day, and we're going boating up the
river, and then home to supper. The rest are all waiting in the boat
down there, and I ran up to get you. So be quick!"
Bessie hesitated. If she went with Nancy, a considerable portion of
the work she had set herself to do would be left undone. Besides, her
mother had gone to Ashleigh, leaving her in charge; and Bessie was not
at all sure that, had she been at home, she would approve of her
joining the party.
To be sure, she could not be absolutely certain of her mother's
disapproval, and she could easily run down for Sam to come and stay
with the children. At the worst, she did not think her mother would be
much displeased; and the thought of the pleasant row, and the merry
party, and all the "fun" they would have, offered no small temptation.
"Quick, Bessie!" Nancy urged, impatient of her delay.
"I don't think I can go, Nancy. Mother's out, and I've a lot of sewing
to do."
"Bother the sewing! Your mother wouldn't mind, I'm sure. Mine lets me
do exactly as I like. Come and get ready;" and she pulled Bessie from
her seat, and drew her, half-resisting, towards the house.
They went up-stairs together, Bessie feeling far from satisfied with
herself for yielding where conscience told her she ought not to yield.
"My!" said Nancy, whose quick eyes had been glancing round the room,
"what a grand ticket you've got hanging up there! Where did you get
it?"
Bessie's eye turned to her motto, and she stood for a minute looking
at it in silence. Then, instead of replying to the question, she said,
"Nancy, I cannot go; it wouldn't be right."
"Well, that's a nice way to treat me!" said Nancy angrily. "After my
waiting so long, too. Why, don't you know your own mind? Come, you
can't change now; I'm not going to be cheated, after all my trouble."
"I'm very sorry, Nancy; but I oughtn't to have said I would go at all.
Don't wait any longer. But I'll go down to the boat with you."
"Oh, don't trouble yourself; I can do without your company." And off
she ran, before Bessie could say any more.
Bessie felt sorry at having vexed Nancy, and thought a little
wistfully of the afternoon's pleasure that she might have had. But she
felt satisfied that she had done right, and felt thankful that she had
had strength given to resist a temptation to which she now felt she
would have done very wrong to yield. So she went back to her shady
seat with a light heart, and stitched away diligently, not repining
although she heard the merry voices of the party, borne to her from
the river.
As her mother had not returned by the time her task was completed,
she went in and got tea ready; and then calling up two of the gentlest
cows, she had milked them by the time Mrs. Ford appeared, tired and
dusty from her long walk. Her pleased surprise at Bessie's thoughtful
industry in getting through so much of the work which she thought was
still before her, was in itself sufficient reward for the self-denial;
and Bessie felt what a shame it would have been if her mother,
fatigued as she was, had had everything to do on her return, while
_she_ was away on a pleasure-party.
Of course Mrs. Ford was soon informed of Nancy's visit and invitation.
"Oh, my child!" she exclaimed, "I am so glad you refused to go. Mrs.
Thompson, in the village, was just telling me about these cousins of
Nancy's, and says they are the wildest set in Burford, and that their
society wouldn't do Nancy any good. So, if you had gone, I should have
been very sorry. I'm so glad you didn't!"
How glad Bessie was that she had been enabled to resist the
temptation! But she felt she could not take the credit to herself; so
she said:
"I had the greatest mind to go, mother, but something told me I
shouldn't, just as I was almost going."
"Well, it's all the same to me, as you didn't go. And you were a real
good girl, Bessie, to stay!"
What a safeguard is a definite duty conscientiously pursued! If Bessie
had not had her task of sewing to finish, with the feeling that it was
her duty to do it, she might have been more easily led away against
her better judgment.
Nelly Connor had had her temptation, too, the same evening. Her mother
had sent her to take home some clothes she had been washing; and as
Nelly was carrying the basket, she noticed a pretty pink printed frock
lying on the top, which looked as if it would exactly fit her. How
nice it would be, she thought, if she had such a frock to wear to the
picnic! Then came one of the evil suggestions which the tempter is so
ready to put into the heart: what if she should keep it till the
picnic was over, and wear it just that once? She could hide it, and
put it on somewhere out of her stepmother's sight; and then, perhaps,
if she were dressed so nicely, some of the other little girls might be
willing to play with her; for the poor child felt her isolated
position.
Then conscience said, "Would it be right?" Had she not been learning,
"Thou shalt not steal?" And had not Miss Lucy explained to her that
that meant taking anything, even the least, that was not her own? A
short time ago Nelly would have appropriated any trifle that came in
her way, without thinking twice about it; but some light had visited
her mind now, and she could distinguish what was darkness. But then
this would not be stealing, it would only be borrowing the frock! At
last she was so near the house, that she was obliged to make up her
mind at once; so, scarcely giving herself time to think, she wrapped
up the frock in the smallest possible compass, hid it behind a stone,
and ran on to leave her basket, hurrying nervously back, lest some one
should inquire for the missing article.
She found it quite safe, however, and managed to convey it unseen to
her little attic-room. But Nelly felt far more unhappy than she had
ever been when her harsh mother had beaten her most severely. She
could not understand how it was that she should feel so miserable. She
was glad that she could not go for her lesson to-night, for she should
have been ashamed to face Miss Lucy. One of the children just then
began to cry, and she ran down-stairs, glad of something to do, and
took the utmost pains to do her evening work particularly well, by way
of making up for the wrong of which she was inwardly conscious.
But when she went to bed, Nelly, for the first time in her life,
tossed about, unable to sleep. All sorts of possibilities of detection
and disgrace occurred to her, and, above all, the voice of conscience
told her she was little better than a thief. She had knelt down to say
the simple prayer she had been first taught by Miss Preston, "O Lord,
take away my sin, and make me Thy child, for Jesus Christ's sake;" but
indulged sin had come between her and the Father to whom she prayed,
so that her prayer was only a formal one. She fell asleep at last, but
only to dream uneasy dreams, in which the pink frock was always
prominent; and when she awoke in the early morning, it was with an
uneasy sense of something wrong, soon defined into a distinct
recollection. As she lay watching the early sunbeams slanting golden
into her dingy attic, her eye fell upon the card pinned up against the
wall, "LOOKING UNTO JESUS," which she could now spell out herself. Had
she not been told to "look to Jesus" when unhappy or naughty, and He
would deliver her? She knew now that she could speak to Jesus
anywhere; so, springing out of bed and kneeling down, she simply but
heartily asked Him to help her to be good. Then, putting on her
clothes with all the haste she could, for fear she might be tempted to
change her mind, she ran off unobserved, carrying with her the coveted
frock, which she handed, without a word, to the servant who was
sweeping the steps, and who, recognising her, supposed her stepmother
had forgotten to send it home with the rest of the washing.
Nelly ran off with a heart so much lighter, that she did not mind even
the box on the ear which she received on her return for being out
"idling about," instead of lighting the fire for the breakfast. She
felt she had deserved much more than that, and she contentedly
accepted it as a slight punishment for her wrongdoing.
That day, when Mrs. Connor was working at Mr. Raymond's, Mrs. Steele,
showing her the frock which was now completed, told her it was to be
given to Nelly on condition of her being allowed to go to the picnic.
Mrs. Connor of course grumbled a good deal about the inconvenience of
having to spare Nelly for a whole afternoon, but the frock tempted
her; and reflecting that the opportune arrival of this frock would do
away with any necessity for getting Nelly a new one for a long time to
come, she ungraciously gave her consent that she should go.
When Nelly came that evening for her lesson, Lucy gladly informed her
that she was to be allowed to go to the picnic, and presented her with
the frock which had been provided for her. Lucy was prepared for her
look of surprise, but not so for her covering her face with her hands
and bursting into tears. With some trouble she drew from her a
confused account of the cause of her trouble--the sin she had been led
into, and which touched her generous nature all the more now that the
frock she had been wishing for was so opportunely provided.
Lucy was at first somewhat shocked that Kelly had been capable of
taking such a liberty with what was not her own, not being able to
realize the strength of such a temptation to a child whose possessions
were so few; and she privately resolved not to tell Stella, who would
scarcely have thought how nobly she overcame the temptation.
However, she commended and encouraged Nelly, and told her always to
resort to the same sure Helper in time of temptation, and to do it in
the first place. "And Jesus is always ready to hear and help you," she
added.
"An' it was Him told you to give me the frock too, wasn't it? And I'm
rightly thankful to Him, and you too, Miss Lucy."
And Nelly carried home her new acquisition, with very different
feelings from those with which she had taken the frock she had
coveted.
"How glad I am I thought of getting it ready for her!" thought Lucy as
she watched her depart, her own heart full of the pleasure of doing a
much-needed kindness,--the only drawback being her regret that Nelly
had not a new hat likewise.
The much-watched-for day on which the picnic was to be held turned out
as fine as the most eager young hearts could desire, notwithstanding
one or two slight showers that fell in the early morning. But these
only cleared the air and laid the dust, and made the foliage so fresh
and glistening that its early summer beauty seemed for a time
revived.
The fine old oak grove where the feast was to be held, was, even
before the appointed hour, astir with bright little groups of happy
children. The teachers and some of the elder girls were already busy
at a roughly constructed table, unpacking and arranging cups and
saucers, filling the latter with the ripe-red berries which had been
brought in in great abundance, and cutting up the piles of buns and
cakes. Bessie Ford was superintending the distribution of the cream
which had come in large jars from the farmhouses, and of which Mill
Bank Farm had contributed the richest and finest. Lucy of course was
among the working party, her position as Mr. Raymond's daughter giving
her a degree of importance far from disagreeable to her. Stella,
seated with her friend Marian Wood in the centre of a mass of flowers,
was daintily arranging them in tiny bouquets to be given to the
children.
At last Bessie, who with Nelly's new hat beside her had been watching
the various arrivals, descried the little solitary figure, with its
dark, hanging locks, for which she had been looking. When she
approached her, she was quite surprised at the change in her
appearance produced by the fresh, pretty frock; and when her old hat
was removed, and the new one placed upon her dark hair, which had been
smoothly combed and brushed out and put back from her eyes, she really
looked as nice as most of the children there. Her dark eyes danced
with pleasure as Bessie, herself almost as happy, took her to a group
of girls about her own age and introduced her to them as a stranger,
to whom they must try to make the picnic as pleasant as possible.
Bessie was a favourite with all the girls, and they willingly promised
what she asked; so that Nelly, for the first time in many months, had
a really good game of play with children of her own age,--an intense
pleasure to her social, kindly Irish nature, which, with her ready
wit, soon made her the life of the little group.
Two or three hours passed rapidly by. Lucy and Bessie went from one
part of the ground to another, encouraging the little ones to run and
romp, bringing forward shy or isolated children, and watching that the
ruder and stronger did not oppress the weaker,--or sitting down to
talk with some of the elder girls, who preferred a quiet chat. Stella,
in her airy muslin flounces, a tiny hat with floating blue ribbons
crowning her golden tresses, flitted about with a winning grace, which
made her the admired of all observers. She felt herself a sort of
princess on the occasion; and as she dearly loved popularity, even
among rustics, she spared no pains to be affable and agreeable, and
felt quite rewarded when she heard such speeches as, "What a sweet,
pretty young lady Miss Lucy's cousin is!" "Isn't she, for all the
world, just like a picture?"
Alick watched with some amusement the patronizing air which mingled
with her affability, and perhaps added to her consequence with those
who could not appreciate the higher beauty of simplicity of manner.
Lucy could not repress a slight feeling of annoyance at seeing how
easily her cousin won her way, and how far her more adventitious
advantages threw into the shade her own real exertions for the
pleasure of those around her. Not that the exertions had been
prompted by a desire for praise; but she was not yet unselfish enough
to be satisfied that they had gained the desired end, although not
fully appreciated by those for whom they had been made. The difference
between the cousins was, that Lucy liked approbation, when she did
what was right for its own sake, while Stella's conduct was chiefly
prompted by the desire of admiration.
"Lucy," said Stella, coming up to her during the afternoon, "do you
see that ridiculous imitation of my dress that Nancy Parker has on? I
suppose she wanted to be dressed just like me; but I'm glad I wore a
different one to-day." Yet, though Stella professed some annoyance,
she was secretly a little flattered at Nancy's thus recognising her as
a leader of fashion.
Alick and Harry were invaluable aids in promoting the enjoyment of the
boys, as was Fred also in his quieter way. Towards the close of the
afternoon Mr. Raymond appeared, and, after a pleasant greeting
interchanged with his older parishioners present, the children
assembled in the centre of the ground to listen to a few kind and
earnest words from their pastor. He took as his subject the
"remembering their Creator in the days of their youth;" and after
reminding them to whom they owed the innocent pleasures which had been
provided for them, he spoke earnestly of the Creator and Redeemer they
were to "remember," to whom they should now bring their young hearts,
that He might take them and make them His. The sunshine of His
gracious presence would, he said, hallow and sweeten their joyous
hours, and be a stay and support even when the "evil days" should
come, and all other sources of happiness should fail them. His
address was not so long as to weary even the most impatient, and when
it was concluded, the children stood up and sang a hymn, which, to
Nelly's great delight, was her favourite--"I lay my sins on Jesus."
Then, after Mr. Raymond had briefly asked a blessing on the food of
which they were about to partake, and the intercourse they had had,
and were still to have, the children quietly dispersed into little
groups, and sat down on the grass to enjoy the good things that were
liberally provided for them.
The distribution kept the assistants busy, and some care had to be
exercised lest too large a share of the cakes should be appropriated
by some of the more greedy,--alas that there should be such among
Sunday-school children! Nelly Connor had seldom had a treat in her
life, but she would not for the world have taken one cake more than
her share, or have hidden one away in her pocket, as she saw some
better-dressed children doing.
At last, when the dew was beginning to moisten the grass, and the
fast-lengthening shadows told that the long summer day was drawing to
a close, a bell sounded to collect the children, and after singing the
evening hymn, and having been commended by Mr. Raymond to the care of
Him who neither slumbers nor sleeps, all quietly dispersed to their
homes. The "picnic" so eagerly looked forward to was over, as all
earthly pleasures must sooner or later be. Not a single incident had
marred its harmony, and, to Nelly Connor in particular, the day had
been one of unmingled and unprecedented enjoyment. How different from
what it would have been had she not, in a strength from above,
overcome the temptation to which she had so nearly yielded!
VIII.
_Partings._
"Only, since our souls will shrink
At the touch of natural grief,
When our earthly loved ones sink,
Lend us, Lord, Thy sure relief,--
Patient hearts, their pain to see,
And Thy grace, to follow Thee."
Stella's visit was now drawing to a close. She had very much enjoyed
its novelty, and had, during her stay, made some acquisitions, though
not of a kind that she yet appreciated, or was even conscious of. It
was impossible for her to be so long in a household where every day
was begun and closed by invoking God's presence and guidance, where
His blessing and approbation were steadily regarded as the best of all
good, where the standard of action was that laid down in His word, and
where His strengthening grace was looked upon as the most necessary
equipment for daily life, without receiving a deeper impression of the
importance of these things than she had ever before felt. And though
the members of her uncle's family had their share of human
imperfections, yet on the whole the example she had seen around her
had been sufficiently consistent to show her, almost against her will,
the beauty of a Christian life, as contrasted with one based wholly on
worldly principles. Some seeds of good, at all events, she carried
back with her, though she was far from having profited as she might
have done, had her heart been more open to receive the influences
around her.
It had been a new thing to Lucy to have a companion of her own age and
sex; she had become really attached to her winsome cousin, and all the
transient irritation which Stella had often caused her passed into
oblivion now that they were really about to part. Alick was to escort
Stella to the residence of a friend whom she was to visit on her way
home; and the cousins parted with affectionate hopes of a visit from
Stella next summer, and also of a winter visit which Mr. Raymond had
half promised that Lucy should make to her cousin's city home.