"When we see the flower seeds wafted,
From the nurturing mother tree,
Tell we can, wherever planted,
What the harvesting will be;
Never from the blasting thistle,
Was there gathered golden grain,
Thus the seal the child receiveth,
From its mother will remain."
--MRS. HALE.
For once Mrs. Gibson had the grace to feel a passing emotion of gratitude
to this kind benefactor, and shame that she herself had been so ready with
fault-finding instead of thanks.
As for Sally, she was completely overcome, and dropping into a chair, hid
her face and cried heartily.
"Come, don't be a fool," her mother said at last; "there's too much to be
done to waste time in crying, and besides you'll hurt your eyes."
Sally rose hastily, removed the traces of her tears, and began setting the
table for their morning meal.
"How soon are you going?" her mother asked at its conclusion.
"Just as soon as I can get the things cleared away and the dishes washed;
if you think you can spare me."
"Of course I can. I feel well enough this morning to help myself to
anything I'm likely to want."
There was still half an hour to spare before breakfast when, after a round
of five or six miles on their ponies, Philip and Elsie reached the Crags.
"What shall you do with yours?" asked Philip, remarking upon that fact.
"Read," she answered, looking back at him with a smile as she tripped
lightly up the stairs.
Dinah was in waiting to smooth her hair and help her change the pretty
riding hat and habit for a dress better suited to the house; then Elsie,
left alone, seated herself by a window with her Bible in her hand.
For a moment her eyes rested upon the blue distant mountains, softly
outlined against the deeper blue of the sky, watched the cloud shadows
floating over the nearer hills and valleys here richly wooded, there
covered with fields of waving grain her ear the while drinking in with
delight many a sweet rural sound, the songs of birds, the distant lowing
of cattle, and bleating of sheep--her heart swelling with ardent love and
thankfulness to him who had given her so much to enjoy.
Dinah had left the door open, that the fresh air might course freely
through the room, and Gertrude coming, some minutes later, in search of
her friend, stood watching Elsie for a little unperceived.
"Dear me!" she exclaimed at length, "how many times a day do you pore over
that book?"
Elsie looked up with a smile as sweet as the morning, "I am allowed to
read it as often as I please."
"Allowed? not compelled? not ordered?"
"No, only I must have a text ready for mamma every morning."
"Getting one ready for to-morrow?"
"No, just reading. I had time for only a verse or two before my ride."
"Well, that would be plenty for me. I can read it, too, as often as I
like, but a chapter or two on Sunday, generally does me for all the week.
There's the bell; come let's go down."
Vi met them at the door of the breakfast-room. "Oh, Elsie, did you have a
pleasant ride? Is Sally Gibson coming soon?"
"I don't know; mamma said I need not wait for an answer."
There was time for no more, and Vi must put a restraint upon herself,
repressing excitement and curiosity for the present, as mamma expected her
children to be very quiet and unobtrusive at table when away from home.
Vi was delighted when just as they were leaving the table, a servant
announced that a young person who called herself Miss Gibson, was asking
for Miss Travilla; for Vi never liked waiting, and was always eager to
carry out immediately any plan that had been set on foot.
Mrs. Gibson was not troubled with any delicacy of feeling about asking for
what she wanted, and had made out a list of things to be provided for
herself and Sally, which the girl was ashamed to show; so extravagant
seemed its demands.
When urged by her benefactress, she mentioned a few of the most necessary
articles, modestly adding that the generous gift Mrs. Travilla had already
bestowed, ought to be sufficient to supply all else that might be
required.
Elsie, seating herself at her writing desk and taking out pen, ink and
paper, looked smilingly into the eager faces of her two little girls.
"What do you think about it, dears?"
"Oh, they must have more things; a good many more, and we want to help pay
for them with our money."
"You see, Miss Sally, they will be sadly disappointed if you refuse to
accept their gifts," Elsie said. "Now I'm going to make out a list and you
must all help me, lest something should be forgotten. Mrs. Ross has kindly
offered us the use of her carriage, and we will drive to the nearest town
and see what we can find there, the rest we will order from New York."
The list was made out amid much innocent jesting and merry laughter of
both mother and children,--Sally a deeply interested and delighted
spectator of their pleasing intercourse--the mother so sweet, gentle and
affectionate, the children so respectful and loving to her, so kind and
considerate to each other.
In fact, the girl was so occupied in watching them, that she was not aware
till Mrs. Travilla read it over aloud, that this new list was longer and
more extravagant than the one she had suppressed.
"Oh, it is too much, Mrs. Travilla!" she cried, the tears starting to her
eyes.
"My dear child," returned Elsie, playfully, "I'm a wilful woman and will
have my own way. Come, the carriage is in waiting and we must go."
The shopping expedition was quite a frolic for the children, and a great
treat to poor, overworked Sally. "She looks so shabby; I'd be ashamed to
go with her to the stores or anywhere, or to have her ride in the carriage
with me," Gertrude had said to Vi as the little girls were having their
hats put on; but Vi answered indignantly, "She's clean and tidy, and she
isn't vulgar or rude, and I do believe she's good; and mamma says dress
and riches don't make the person."
And that seemed to be the feeling of all; Elsie, too, had purposely
dressed herself and her children as plainly as possible; so that Sally,
though at first painfully conscious of the deficiencies in her attire,
soon forgot all about them, and gave herself up to the thorough enjoyment
of the pleasures provided for her.
She felt that it would be very ungrateful did she not share the hearty
rejoicing of the children over "her pretty things" as they eagerly
selected and paid for them with their own pocket money, seeming fully to
realize the truth of the Master's declaration, "It is more blessed to give
than to receive."
Vi would have had the making of the new dresses begun at once, wanting
Sally to return with them to the Crags, and let Dinah fit her immediately,
but was overruled by her mamma.
"No, my dear, Sally must go home to her sick mother now, and Dinah shall
go to them after dinner."
"But mamma, I want to begin my part. You know you said I could hem nicely,
and might do some on the ruffles or something."
"Yes, daughter, and so you shall, but must rest awhile first."
Violet had often to be held back in starting upon some new enterprise, and
afterward encouraged or compelled to persevere, while Elsie was more
deliberate at first, more steadfast in carrying out what she had once
undertaken. Each had what the other lacked, both were very winsome and
lovable, and they were extremely fond of one another; scarcely less so of
their brothers and the darling baby sister.
"When may I begin, mamma?" asked Vi, somewhat impatiently.
"After breakfast to-morrow morning you may spend an hour at your needle."
"Only an hour, mamma? It would take all summer at that rate."
"Ah, what a doleful countenance, daughter mine!" Elsie said laughingly, as
she bent down and kissed the rosy cheek. "You must remember that my two
little girls are not to carry the heavy end of this, and the sewing will
be done in good season without overworking them. I could not permit that;
I must see to it that they have plenty of time for rest and for healthful
play. I appoint you one hour a day, and shall allow you to spend one more,
if you wish, but that must be all."
Violet had been trained to cheerful acquiescence in the decisions of her
parents, and now put it in practice, yet wished very much that mamma would
let her work all day for Sally, till her outfit was ready; she was sure
she should not tire of it; but she soon learned anew the lessons she had
learned a hundred times before--that mamma knew best.
The first day she would have been willing to sew a little longer after the
second hour's task was done; the next, two hours were fully sufficient to
satisfy her appetite for work: on the third, it was a weariness before the
end of the first hour; on the fourth, she would have been glad to beg off
entirely, but her mother said firmly, "No, dear; one hour's work is not
too much for you, and you know I allowed you to undertake it only on
condition that you would persevere to the end."
"Yes, mamma, but I am very tired, and I think I'll never undertake
anything again," and with a little sigh the child seated herself and began
her task.
Mamma smiled sympathizingly, softly smoothed the golden curls, and said in
her own gentle voice, "Let us not be weary in well-doing'! Do you remember
the rest of it?"
"Yes, mamma, 'for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.' And you
told us to faint was to get tired and stop. But mamma, what shall I reap
by keeping on with this?"
"A much needed lesson in perseverance, for one thing, I hope my little
daughter, and for another the promise given in the forty-first Psalm,
'Blessed is he that considereth the poor; the Lord will deliver him in
time of trouble. The Lord will preserve him, and keep him alive; and he
shall be blessed upon the earth; and thou wilt not deliver him unto the
will of his enemies. The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of
languishing: thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness.'
"How would you like to hear a story while you sit here sewing by my side?"
"Oh, ever so much, mamma! A story! a story!" And all the little flock
clustered about mamma's chair, for they dearly loved her stories.
This was an old favorite, but the narrator added some new characters and
new scenes, spinning it out, yet keeping up the interest, till it and the
hour came to an end very nearly together.
Then the children, finding that was to be all for the present, scattered
to their play.
Mrs. Ross had come in a few minutes before, and signing to her friend to
proceed, had joined the group of listeners.
"Dear me, Elsie, how can you take so much trouble with your children?" she
said. "You seem to be always training and teaching them in the sweetest,
gentlest way; and of course they're good and obedient. I'm sure I love
mine dearly, but I could never have the patience to do all you do."
"My dear friend, how can I do less, when so much of their future welfare,
for time and for eternity, depends upon my faithfulness?"
"Yes," said Lucy slowly, "but the mystery to me is, how you can keep that
in mind all the time, and how you can contrive always to do the right
thing?"
"I wish I did, but it is not so; I make many mistakes."
"I don't see it. You do wonderfully well anyhow, and I want to know how
you manage it."
"I devote most of my time and thoughts to it; I try to study the character
of each child, and above all, I pray a great deal for wisdom and for God's
blessing on my efforts; not always on my knees, for it is a blessed
truth, that we may lift our hearts to him at any time and in any place.
Oh, Lucy," she exclaimed with tearful earnestness, "if I can but train my
children for God and heaven, what a happy woman shall I be I the longing
desire of my heart for them is that expressed in the stanza of Watts's
Cradle Hymn:
'Mayst them live to know and fear him,
Trust and love him all thy days,
Then go dwell forever near him,
See his face and sing his praise!'"