HARD AT WORK.
Ruth went to school alone the next morning, for Julia was so unwell from
the excitement of the day that she seemed quite ill and feverish, and
was scarcely able to lift her head from the pillow. Her eyes had dark
rims round them, her head ached terribly, and she was certainly quite
unfit to attend to her studies and to meet her school-fellows.
None of the girls liked to ask Ruth what had happened after her return
home, and they scarcely ventured to inquire for her cousin. They
evidently felt that they had gone too far, and began to speak kindly to
Mabel and to treat her in their usual manner.
But the poor girl could not easily forget the slights she had received,
and amid their new-born kindness she turned naturally to the one who had
befriended her while the others behaved rudely. She soon grew quite
intimate with Ruth, and even ventured to speak of the trouble which had
befallen her father that summer, and of her future prospects.
"Of course," she said, "papa would not have thought of allowing me to
remain at such an expensive school as Miss Elgin's, but grandmamma has
kindly promised to pay the expenses of my education for two years, and
if I study hard for that time I hope that I shall be able to teach, and
to help papa and mamma."
Ruth could thoroughly sympathise with her friend, and entered into her
feelings, her hopes and aspirations, for was she not working with the
same object in view? Did she not desire to help _her_ father and mother
by teaching the younger children?
Thus their friendship grew and strengthened during Julia's absence,
which lasted quite a week.
She, poor child, was quite unstrung, and for two or three days the very
mention of school brought on a fit of hysterical crying, and she begged
that she might be allowed to go to some boarding-school at a distance,
anywhere--away from Busyborough. Mrs. Woburn was inclined to yield to
her wish; but her father would not hear of such a thing, and declared
that she had brought all the trouble upon herself by her own folly, and
she must bear the consequences of it. He was, in fact, excessively angry
with his spoilt child, and believed that her return to school would be a
severe punishment which she richly deserved.
When Mr. Woburn spoke in that decided way there was nothing to be done
but to obey. His wife, however, called upon Miss Elgin, and explained
the reason of Julia's absence, begging that she would ask the girls to
receive her kindly, without referring to the cause of the quarrel, as
she had already suffered a good deal.
Miss Elgin was astonished to hear of the affair, which had perplexed and
puzzled her not a little; for, as her pupils had all felt themselves
more or less to blame in the matter, they had all kept it from her
knowledge, and she had only guessed from their reticence, and the air of
mystery with which they received every allusion to their absent
school-fellow, that something was wrong. Before morning school she
called the girls together, told them how pained and grieved she had
been, and gave them a little lecture upon the duty of ruling the tongue,
and the folly of valuing people only for their wealth or position
instead of their goodness and virtue. The girls listened in silence, and
when Julia returned, looking very much ashamed and humbled after her
vain boasting, they made no allusion to her fiery outburst, and in a few
days she had regained her old place in the school and everything went on
as usual.
Lessons, classes, exercises, and lectures were crowded into each day.
Ruth had plenty to do, and found that she must work very hard if she
wished to succeed, and to take a good place in the school. She was
astonished to see how indolent some of the girls were; to find that many
of them did not care for knowledge for its own sake, but regarded their
lessons as a trouble, and were continually begging to be allowed to
leave off this or that study. And she was still more surprised and
shocked to find how many of the exercises were merely copied from old
books, with perhaps a few slight mistakes inserted to prevent suspicion.
On more than one occasion, Ruth gave offence by refusing to lend her
books for this purpose, or to avail herself of proffered assistance; but
she persevered steadily, and declared that she would rather make a few
mistakes than evade a difficulty which she could not surmount, as she
would be sure to meet it again.
Miss Elgin was not long in perceiving that Ruth was a conscientious
girl, anxious to learn, and in many little ways she contrived to help
and encourage her.
As the weather grew colder and winter advanced, the old home-life at the
farm seemed very far away, and somehow the home letters were not so full
of interest as they had once been. How trivial and childish it seemed to
read about the new kittens, the chickens, the nuts in the woods, and the
apples in the orchard, and the many little details with which the
children's letters were filled, when one was studying chemistry and
reading Milton and Shakespeare. Her mother's letters were always
welcome, but they were very rare.
The comfort and luxury of her new home were beginning to make a visible
alteration in her. Already she looked and felt quite a different person
from the little Ruth Arnold who sometimes milked the cows, or helped
with the house-work when the servants were busy. Her brown curls had
long since given place to a long plait like Julia's, her clothes were of
richer materials and made in a more fashionable style, and she had what
seemed at first an abundant supply of pocket-money. The only day on
which she really longed to be back at Cressleigh was Sunday. It had
always been such a happy day at the farm, the only rest day of the busy
father and mother, and always spent with the children. There were of
course certain duties which could not be neglected, but these were
quickly done, and then the whole family went together to the house of
God. In the afternoon the children all went to Sunday-school, where Will
was promoted to the post of teacher, and Mr. and Mrs. Arnold had a quiet
hour together with no one but the baby to disturb them. There was rarely
any service in the evening, but it was a pleasant time for the children,
who in fine summer weather sat on the lawn and sang their favourite
hymns, or on winter evenings gathered round the old piano in the
well-worn parlour while their mother or Ruth played, or listened while
their father talked or read some good and interesting book. All went to
bed early, and rose in the morning refreshed and strengthened by the joy
and repose of the day of rest.
But Sunday at Busyborough was quite a different matter. Every one was
expected to attend public worship once during the day, but Gerald was
often missing, and the others did not appear to take much pleasure in
going. Mr. Woburn had a pew in a handsome church close by, and also at a
large Nonconformist chapel in the neighbourhood. His wife usually
attended the latter, but Julia preferred the church, where the service
was very elaborate. She hated long sermons, she said, and liked to have
something to look at. Ruth accompanied her once or twice, but found the
morning service, to which she had been accustomed all her life, so
differently rendered that at first she could hardly follow it. The dear
old Psalms, which had always been read at Cressleigh by the clergyman
and the people led by the parish clerk, sounded so strange and
unfamiliar when chanted by a surpliced choir. The intoning, the
processions, and everything else, were so strange, that Ruth was afraid
to join in the service.
After going a few times she decided to accompany her aunt, for although
the service of the chapel was unfamiliar she was able to enter into the
spirit of it, and could appreciate and enjoy the sermon delivered by a
clever and eloquent preacher.
The family dined early on Sundays, and then the miserable part of the
day began for Ruth. There was "nothing to do on Sundays," Julia said,
and indeed there seemed to be no occupation provided. No one thought of
going to Sunday-school, as Ruth had once timidly suggested, although
Julia sometimes went to church when there was a special musical service.
At other times she would begin to read; then she would fidget or strum
on the piano, greatly to the annoyance of her father, who always took a
Sunday afternoon nap, and of Ernest, who buried himself in a book.
Gerald went out, Rupert got into all sorts of mischief, and Ruth was
left to her own devices.
In the evening the girls wrote their Scripture exercises, under cover of
which Julia often did other lessons, though this was quite contrary to
the express orders of her father, who was very anxious that his children
should have a "proper regard for the day." There was continual
bickering, many disputes and petty quarrels, and when bed-time came
every one was weary and cross, and seemed glad the day was over. No
wonder that Ruth often longed and sighed for one of the happy old
Sundays at home.