"but I don't care. Indeed, I won't beg Miss Ashton's pardon, not if I
stay here a year. Mamma makes such a fuss about her being so kind and
patient and all that. She's paid for teaching me, so it's nothing so
wonderfully good. I hope I never will go back to the school where that
hateful Nellie is."
Soon the door opened, and the nurse appeared, bearing a tray on which
was Gracie's dinner. She set it upon a table, placed a chair, and went
away without a word to her.
"I don't care," said Gracie once more, "no one need talk to me if they
don't want to. I'm just as good as they are, and I'd just as lief stay
here by myself."
She sat down before the dinner-tray, trying to believe that she would
"just as lief eat her dinner alone;" but she found it was not so
agreeable after all. She wondered what they were doing downstairs; if
the children were chattering as merrily as usual, or if her absence
made any difference in the family enjoyment. She had little appetite,
as may be supposed, and left the nicely served meal scarcely touched.
But it must not be thought that she had any idea of yielding or
acknowledging herself in the wrong. By and by she heard her brothers
and sisters coming upstairs, then their voices in the nursery as they
prattled to one another; and she knew that they were being made ready
for their afternoon airing. Then tiny feet pattered along the hall,
and little May's voice sounded through her closed door,--
"Am oo dood now, Dacie? We'm doin out, Dacie; am oo most dood? Pease
don't be naughty dirl, Dacie," and the soft little hand tapped upon the
panel as the baby voice pleaded.
"Come away, darling. Gracie may come out when she is good and says she
is sorry," said mamma's voice; and Gracie knew that her mother had led
the little pet away.
But all this only seemed to harden her. May was such a darling, the
sweetest and dearest of all her brothers and sisters, Gracie thought;
and, although the sweet, coaxing voice had touched her, she only found
in her mother's interference fresh cause of offence.
"Mamma tries to set even May against me, and I s'pose she's been
telling all the children what I did," she thought; "but I don't care.
I believe they'll grow tired of having me away before I am tired of
staying here. There's plenty for me to do. I can read, and I'll work on
my mat."
But here it suddenly flashed upon her that she had not brought her mat
home with her. Being sent away in disgrace and not returning to the
school-room before leaving, she had quite forgotten it, and it still
lay there in her desk. And that stain upon it, too, which she had
intended to ask her mother to take out if possible. Mamma would not
feel like doing it for her now, and she could ask no favors from her.
Not unless she repented and--and--apologized to Miss Ashton. And this
last she would not do; no, never, never.
She heard the children going downstairs, stood at the window and
watched them get into the carriage and drive away with mamma, and began
to wish that she were there too. And such a lovely afternoon, it was
too bad to be shut up here. But still she never blamed herself for her
imprisonment; no, mamma, Miss Ashton, Nellie, any one was in the wrong,
but not her own wilful, stubborn little self. What was to be the end of
this she did not know, but Gracie had no thought of yielding.
She whiled away the afternoon as she best could; but every thing seemed
to have lost its zest. Her prettiest story-books had no interest;
her dolls were "stupid" and poor company; even her stock of pretty
materials for articles for the fair seemed less attractive than usual
as she turned them over, and her work "would not go."
This was the first time in her life that Gracie had ever been punished
in such a manner; and apart from the disgrace, which she was determined
not to feel, she was a child who was fond of society and did not know
how to bear being deprived of it.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
VIII.
"_THE SPIDER AND THE FLY._"
If Mrs. Howard had perhaps hoped that little May's pleading would have
any softening effect on Gracie, she was mistaken. The message she had
expected to receive on reaching home did not come to her. Nor did she
hear a word from Gracie through the evening until the little girl's
bed-time came. Then she sent word that the hour had come, still hoping
and believing that the stubborn heart must relent, and that Gracie
would feel that she could not go to rest unforgiven and without her
mother's good-night kiss. But she was mistaken. Gracie received the
message in sullen silence, but obeyed and went to bed without one word
of sorrow or repentance.
It was the same in the morning. Gracie rose and was dressed; her
breakfast was brought and eaten in solitude, as her dinner and supper
had been yesterday; and still the nurse who waited upon her passed
in and out, as it was necessary, and brought no word to comfort the
sorrowing heart of her mother.
School-time came, and Gracie knew that the children in her class would
believe that her absence was caused by her misconduct of the previous
day, as was indeed too true; but this only made her feel more and more
proud and obstinate.
The long, weary morning wore away, the solitary dinner was once more
over, and again the house seemed so still and lonely, for mamma and the
children had gone out again, and the servants were all downstairs.
By and by Gracie heard a light, quick foot running up the stairs and
coming towards her own door. The latch was turned and the door softly
opened,--Mrs. Howard had not locked her in, for she believed that she
could trust Gracie and that she would not disobey so far as to leave
the room she had been bidden to keep,--and Hattie's face peeped in.
Gracie started, partly in astonishment, partly in dismay; for what must
she do now? Mamma would not have allowed her to see Hattie, she knew,
if she had been at home; and must she send her away? She was so glad to
see some one, to be able to speak to some one.
Hattie came in, closed the door behind her, and, running to Gracie, put
her arm about her neck and kissed her, saying with much energy,--
"It's too mean, Gracie! it's the meanest thing I ever knew! It's a
great shame!"
There could be no doubt of her sympathy, of her belief that Gracie was
in the right, or at least that she was not so very much to blame, and
was undeservedly punished. For Hattie was really and truly very fond
of Gracie, admired her and considered her very clever; and, although
even she had been dismayed by Gracie's outburst yesterday, she was now
disposed to treat it lightly, and to say that Gracie had been provoked.
There was another reason, too, which induced Hattie to take part
against Nellie Ransom, and to wish to put her in the wrong.
"O Hattie!" said Gracie, "how did you come up here? Mamma wouldn't
allow it, I know."
Hattie laughed triumphantly.
"I knew that," she said, "for I came to the door a little while ago and
the servant said you were up in your room, but he thought you could
not see any one to-day, and he said every one else was out. But I said
I had a message from school for you, and that you must have it this
afternoon. So of course he thought it was from Miss Ashton, as I meant
he should, and he let me come up."
"Mamma will be displeased," said Gracie; "you ought not, Hattie. I'm
very glad to see you, but I must not let you stay."
"I'll only stay a few minutes," said Hattie, taking the seat which
Gracie had not ventured to offer her. "I've something perfectly
splendid to tell you."
"Was everybody saying ugly things about me to-day, and talking as if
I was as wicked as a murderer?" asked Gracie, more interested in the
opinion others might hold of her than in Hattie's promised news.
There had really been very little said on the matter; the offence was
too serious and too shocking to Gracie's young companions to make it an
agreeable subject of conversation; and, although there had been some
wondering as to whether Gracie would ever be allowed to return to the
school, but few unkind remarks had been made, and these were more in
sorrow than in censure.
And Hattie was too full of her errand and of the fear of being found on
forbidden ground to make as good a story of that little as she might
have chosen to do at another time.
"Well, no, not much," she answered. "I suppose that old Nellie,
hateful thing, was glad enough."
"Did she say so?" questioned Gracie.
"No," said Hattie; "she did not speak about it. Gracie, did Miss Ashton
send word to your mother and ask her to punish you?"
"She wrote to her about it, and I suppose mamma punished me of her own
accord," answered Gracie.
"How long is she going to keep you up here?" asked Hattie.
"Till--till--I beg Miss Ashton's pardon," said Gracie, her angry pride
rising again at the thought; "and I _never_ will do it, no, _never_,
not if I stay here a year!"
"But the fair," said Hattie; "you know the fair is in two weeks, and if
you don't come out before that you'll miss all the fun."
Now, apart from the interest which all the little girls took in the
fair, Gracie had a strong desire, as usual, to play some very prominent
part therein. As we know, she had wished to be Queen, and had been
vexed because Maggie Bradford had been chosen again; but, although she
could not have this coveted honor, she still hoped and intended to make
herself very conspicuous there.
It was true that the thought of the fair and all that concerned it had
been much in her mind, even during her imprisonment; but it had not
occurred to her that her resolution of never, never apologizing to Miss
Ashton, "even if she stayed shut up for a whole year," would scarcely
agree with her appearance at the festival.
She sat as if confounded at Hattie's words.
"I'd do it if I were you," continued the latter, seeing the effect she
had produced. "It's a great shame that you have to, but then you _will_
have to, you know; and I'd do it and have it over. If you're going to
fret and fuss here about it, you'll feel a great deal worse at last
when you come to do it."
Hattie's advice on this subject was certainly good in itself, though
she did not put it before Gracie in a right light.
"Miss Ashton is so unjust and so awfully partial to Nellie," pouted
Gracie, although her resolution was beginning to waver a little for the
first time.
"I know it," said Hattie; "but she can't make other people think Nellie
is the smartest child. Every one knows you are, Gracie, even if they
won't say so."
"I can learn three lessons while Nellie learns one; but Miss Ashton is
always praising her and never praises me," was Gracie's answer.
"I know it," said Hattie again. "Nellie--oh, I can't bear that
girl!--sets up to be so wonderfully good, and Miss Ashton always
believes whatever she says, and makes such a fuss about her; but you
can just _say_ you beg Miss Ashton's pardon, and have it over. The rest
of the class will have every thing their own way if you don't come out
pretty soon and have your word about the fair; and there's your mat,
too, you know, Gracie."
"I forgot my mat yesterday when I came away," said Gracie. "I wish you
had known it and then you could have brought it to me."
Again Hattie gave a triumphant little laugh, and putting her hand into
her pocket drew out the mat,--that is, _a_ mat.
Gracie seized it eagerly, gave Hattie a kiss, saying, "Oh, you dear
thing! I'm so glad."
Then she looked for the stain, but there was no stain to be seen.
"Where's that ink-spot? Oh, Hattie, did you take it out? There's not a
sign of it."
"No," said Hattie, "I did not take it out."
"Why!" exclaimed Gracie, turning the mat over. "Why, it is--it is--it's
not mine. It's Nellie's mat!"
"I'm going to tell you," said Hattie. "This morning Miss Ashton handed
me your history, which I believe you left in the cloak-room yesterday,
and told me to put it in your desk. So when I opened the desk, the
first thing I saw was the mat, and I knew you must have forgotten it.
Nellie, the mean thing, she had brought her mat to school to-day again,
and said she was going to work on it in recess; but when recess came
the other children coaxed her to go out in the garden 'cause it was
so pleasant, and she went. So while they were all down there, I saw
the way to play Miss Nellie a good trick and to help you, dear; and I
ran up to the school-room, changed Nellie's mat for yours, put hers
back just as she had left it, and she'll never know the difference and
think that somehow that ink-spot has come on her mat. And do you know,
Gracie, it was the most fortunate thing that Nellie had just worked
those two rows more that made her work even with yours; so she never
can know. You remember yesterday we could scarcely tell them apart, and
now they look almost exactly alike."
"But what then?" said Gracie, almost frightened at the thought of
Hattie's probable meaning.
"Why, don't you see?" said Hattie, who told her story as if she thought
she had done something very clever and praiseworthy; "you can just
finish this mat as if it was your own, and need not bother yourself
about the ink-stain."
"But--but--Hattie--this one is Nellie's," said Gracie in a shocked
voice.
"What of that? we'll keep the secret, and no one will ever know but
us two," said Hattie. "Nellie has the other one, and that's good
enough for her. She has no right to expect the most money from your
grandmamma. Take a great deal of pains with this, Gracie, and make the
work look just like Nellie's."
"But, I can't, I can't," said Gracie. "It seems to me almost
like--stealing."
"Stealing!" repeated Hattie. "I'd like to know who has been stealing! I
only changed the mats, and you have the best right to the nicest one.
I was not going to have Nellie get every thing away from you. She just
thinks she's going to make herself the head of the school and beat you
in every thing."
Now as I have said, and as you will readily believe, there was more at
the bottom of Hattie's desire to thwart Nellie than her wish to see
Gracie stand first, although she was really very fond of the latter,
and it was this.
It had so happened that Nellie's rather blunt truthfulness and
clear-sighted honesty had more than once detected Hattie's want of
straightforwardness, and even defeated some object she had in view, and
for this Hattie bore her a grudge. She was particularly displeased with
her at the present time because of a reprimand from Miss Ashton which
she chose to consider she owed to Nellie.
Coming to school rather early one morning, a day or two since, Nellie
found Belle Powers and Hattie there before her.
Belle sat upon the lower step of the upper flight of stairs, in a
state of utter woe, with the saddest of little faces, and wiping the
tears from her eyes. Hattie, grasping the banister with one hand, was
swinging herself back and forth, saying, "I wouldn't care if I were
you. 'Tis nothing to cry about;" but she looked ashamed and rather
caught when she saw Nellie coming up the stairs.
"What is the matter, Belle?" asked Nellie, sitting down beside the
school pet and darling, and putting her arm around her neck.
"Fanny Leroy said things about me," sobbed Belle.
"What things?" questioned Nellie with a searching look at Hattie.
"She said I was so bad and spoiled I could hardly ever be good, even
when I wanted to," answered Belle piteously; "and she said Miss Ashton
had to be excusing me all the time for the naughty things I did in
school. And I loved Fanny, and I wouldn't have said such bad things
about her; and, oh, dear! I thought she loved me too. She came to
Aunt Margaret's when I was there the day before she went away, to say
good-bye to Maggie and Bessie and me; and she gave us each a nutmeg to
remember her by and to keep for ever an' ever an' ever for a keepsake,
and she kissed me ever so many times. And all the time she had been
saying bad things about me, and so I'm going to throw away the nutmeg,
'cause I don't want a keepsake of a girl who made b'lieve she liked me
when she didn't."
"I don't believe it," said Nellie with far more energy than was usual
with her, and still regarding Hattie with searching looks.
"But Hattie says she did," repeated Belle.
Hattie's _saying_ a thing made it by no means sure in Nellie's
eyes, and although she was not apt to interfere or meddle where she
had no right to do so, she would not let this pass without further
questioning. She was fond of the absent Fanny and loved Belle dearly;
and believing that both were now wronged, she set herself to right them
if possible.
"I don't believe it," she said again.
"Well, you just can believe it," said Hattie resentfully. "Don't I know
what Fanny said to me? It's nothing to make such a fuss about, anyhow."
"Belle has very easily hurt feelings," said Nellie; "and besides, it
_is_ something to make a fuss about. And Fanny hardly ever would say
unkind things of other people; the girls used to think she was 'most
too particular about it. And, Hattie Leroy, I don't believe she ever
said such things about Belle; anyhow, not in that way."
"She did, too, I tell you," persisted Hattie, secure in Fanny's
absence, and determined not to acknowledge that she had misrepresented
her innocent words, from the mere love of talking and exaggeration,
too; for she had not intended to hurt Belle so much, and was now really
sorry to see her so grieved. "She did, too, I tell you. How do you know
what Fanny said to me?"
"I don't know what she did say, but I am sure she never said that,"
repeated Nellie.
Both little girls had raised their voices as they contradicted one
another, and as the tones of neither were very amicable by this time,
they drew the attention of Miss Ashton.
"What is this, my little girls; what is the trouble?" she asked, coming
up the stairs to them; then, seeing Belle's still distressed and
tear-stained face she inquired, "Belle, darling, what is wrong?"
Nellie and Hattie were both rather abashed, especially the latter,
who knew herself to be in the wrong; but Belle answered, "Hattie
thinks Fanny Leroy said something, and Nellie thinks she didn't.
I don't know," she added with a mournful shake of her head, "but
somehow somebody must be rather 'deceitful and _despicably_ wicked.'"
Desperately, Belle meant, and she quoted her words in no spirit of
irreverence, but because she thought them suited to the, to her,
solemnity of the occasion.
Miss Ashton, too, feared that there was some deceitfulness, or at least
exaggeration; and seeing that little Belle was in real trouble she
questioned further, and Nellie told her what Hattie had said.
This was not the first time, by any means, that Miss Ashton had known
mischief to arise from Hattie's thoughtless way, to call it by no
worse name, of repeating things; and she reproved her pretty sharply,
telling her that such speeches were not at all like her gentle,
amiable cousin Fanny, and she could not believe her guilty of them;
and even had she said them she, Hattie, had no right to repeat them
and make needless sorrow and trouble for Belle. Then she soothed Belle
and encouraged her to think that Fanny had not so wronged her; and
after school she kept Hattie for a few moments, and spoke to her very
seriously but kindly on her idle, foolish habit of telling tales with
exaggeration and untruthfulness.
But Hattie, in repeating this, had said that "Miss Ashton kept her in
and gave her an awful scolding just because she had said something that
cry-baby Belle did not like, and Nellie went and told her and so put
her in a scrape;" nor did she see that it had been her own blame in
the first instance. And ever since she had been vexed with Nellie, and
this added strength to her wish to have Gracie outstrip Nellie. It was
not altogether this, let us do her justice, for she really loved Gracie
better than any other child in the school, and was anxious to have her
win for her own sake.
But we must go back to these two little girls as they sat together in
Gracie's room.
"Yes, so she does," echoed Gracie; "and I suppose now Miss Ashton will
take away my conduct marks, and being away to-day, I'll lose my place
in all the classes too. Not that I could not get ahead of her again
easily enough," she added contemptuously.
"But she can't have the best mat now," said Hattie.
"I don't see how I _could_ do that," said Gracie. "It is her's, you
know, Hattie, and I can't, really I can't."
"But you'll have to now," said Hattie. "You know Nellie has found the
ink-spot on the other mat by this time, and there's no way to give her
this one back."
Yes, there was one way, but that did not enter Hattie's thoughts.
"I couldn't," said Gracie again, shrinking at the idea of doing what
she knew to be so dishonest and deceitful. "I must have my own mat,
Hattie; but I do wish this was mine and the other Nellie's."
"But we can't put it back now, and I took it for you," said Hattie
complainingly. "Gracie, you must keep it now. I shall get into an awful
scrape if you don't; and it's real mean of you."
It would take too long to tell you of all the arguments and persuasions
Hattie used. How she pleaded and reproached; how she insisted that
there was no way of undoing what she had done; how she excited and
increased Gracie's jealous pride and desire to outdo Nellie; and this
last she found by far the most effectual argument.
And--Gracie yielded. Persuading herself that she had the best right to
receive the highest premium because her own grandmamma had offered it;
putting from her the thought of the only way in which justice could now
be done to Nellie, on the plea that Hattie would be disgraced, and she
would be "too mean" to bring this upon her; rousing up all her own
naughty and envious feelings against innocent Nellie, she gave way at
last and fell before temptation. Fell into the very sin, or even worse,
from which she felt herself so very secure,--deceit and theft, for it
was no less.
"Now I'll go, dear," said Hattie, jumping up as soon as Gracie had
yielded, perhaps afraid that she might repent and insist that she could
not keep the mat, "and no one but us two will ever know the secret.
And, Gracie, make up your mind to ask Miss Ashton's pardon, so you
won't lose all the fun."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
IX.
_A GUILTY CONSCIENCE._
If Gracie had been an unhappy and miserable child before, what was
she now with all this load upon her conscience? For even pride and
self-conceit could not attempt to justify such a deed. Jealousy had
a good deal to say; and she tried to listen to that, and to believe
also that she was not really to blame: she had been forced into it;
she could not betray Hattie, who had done this from love to her. But
she was more wretched than it would be easy to tell; and she was
beginning to feel such a contempt for her chosen friend that this also
was a sore spot in her heart. Day by day she was learning that there
was nothing true or honorable or upright about Hattie. She hardly
even seemed to think it much harm to tell a falsehood, or appeared
ashamed when she was found out; and for some days she had had a growing
feeling that it was not pleasant to have a friend with the character
of a "story-teller," which Hattie now bore among her school-fellows.
And Gracie; was she not just as bad, perhaps even worse? For Gracie
had been taught all the value and beauty of truth, and had never till
now wilfully fallen away from it; but she knew that the worth of that
jewel was not much considered in Hattie's home, and so it had lost its
preciousness in her eyes.
Miss Ashton, too, knew this; and so she was less severe with Hattie
than she might have been with another child who had a better example
and more encouragement to do right in this particular.
Lily, in her plain speaking, would probably have called Mr. and Mrs.
Leroy by the same uncomplimentary name she had given to Mr. Raymond;
for the same foolish system of management was carried on in their
family. Probably they would have been much shocked to hear it said
that they taught the lesson of deceit; but was it to be expected that
Hattie could have much regard for the truth when she heard herself and
her brothers and sisters threatened with punishments, which were not,
perhaps could not be carried out; when promises were made to them which
were not kept; when they were frightened by tales of bears, wolves, and
old black men, and such things which had no existence?
"Willie, your mamma said she would send you to bed if you went there,"
was said to little Willie Leroy one day.
"Oh, I'm not afraid," answered Willie, contemptuously. "Mamma never
does what she says;" and off he ran to the forbidden spot, his words
proving quite true, although his mamma heard that he had disobeyed her
so deliberately.
"Is your mother going to make you something for the fair?" Hattie was
asked by one of her schoolmates.