"I want a bit of talk with you, Frank," Mrs. Grey took an opportunity
to whisper on the way to the dinner-table.
"All right," he replied. "Shall it be in the library, after the rest
have gone to bed? Or right after dinner, in your dressing-room?"
"Right after dinner," she replied; and as soon as the meal was over,
they disappeared.
"Now for my curtain-lecture," he said, as they seated themselves by the
fire.
"I want to speak a word for your poor Lily," she said. "You began by
loving her extravagantly, and educated her into expecting this sort
of thing could last; now you are transferring your attentions to
Gabrielle, in a way that must hurt your wife."
"Gabrielle has grown charming," he replied, "and it is delightful to
have her again."
"That may be; but you may depend upon it, I understand my sex better
than you do, and that no woman wants to see a girl put into the place
once hers, even though the girl is her own child."
"Lily never complains of it."
"No; but she droops under it."
"I don't like the idea of her being jealous of Gabrielle."
"That's not the way to put it. It is not jealousy. You lavish on
Gabrielle, by the hour together, caresses you used to lavish on Lily,
and she would have to be made of stone not to feel it. You must bear
with me, my son, when I say that I don't like it. Whatever defects you
may find in her, you cannot undo the past. You fell desperately in
love with her, and married her; now you owe it to her to keep up that
affection."
"Our affections are not under our control."
"True; but they are under God's control, and He can make all right
between you twain."
"It never crossed my mind to ask Him to do that. But, mammy dear,
who says I am alienated from Lily? Loving Gabrielle does not involve
indifference to my wife."
"You ask who says it? _I_ say it, and say it with pain. I did hope to
see my sons loyal to the wives they themselves chose, however they
might be disappointed in them. Lily has never wilfully annoyed you, and
she gives you all the affection she is capable of giving, and wants
yours in return."
Frank sat thoughtfully looking into the fire, and at the same time
searching his own heart. At last he said:
"I thank my dear mother for her timely faithfulness. I see now that I
must have wounded Lily in many ways. I shall ask her pardon, and start
afresh. She little knows her indebtedness to you."
"What's going on here; secrets?" said Fred, who had knocked and been
admitted.
"I have had my dressing, and now you may come and have yours," said
Frank, rising.
"There's hardly a chance to get in a word edge-wise, when Frank is at
home," said Fred, taking possession of the seat he had vacated. "And
I'm sure he doesn't love and admire you more than I do. I want to tell
you, as I could not in a letter, what a happy family you have made of
us. We took all your lessons to heart, and the improvement in Kitty
is marvelous. She is a very interesting little creature, and a great
amusement to us. Hatty keeps a journal, and records all her bright
speeches."
"I am glad of that. You must let me see it. Every mother ought to keep
one, if she can."
"Did you keep one about me?"
"No. You never said anything bright enough. It wasn't your forte to
make smart speeches. Frank and Belle made enough to cover anything
wanting in the rest of you. Tell me all about the baby now. Do you know
Hatty has never written me once since it was born, and that all I know
of it is that it is a boy?"
"Is that so? Why, I took it for granted Hatty had written. Well, he's a
magnificent fellow, exactly like me."
"Shall I ever get the conceit out of you, you foolish boy?" she said,
looking up at him with loving eyes.
"Yes, a magnificent fellow! Almost as big as Kitty, but not at all like
her. He has a thick head of hair, dark eyes, and the prettiest little
dumpling of a chin, with a dent in it. Kitty nearly eats him up. He's a
good-natured chap, too, always laughing and crowing, and kicking up his
heels. I tell you what, mother, it's great fun to have a dear little
wife and two splendid children. Hatty says she means to have ten."
"I don't see but I shall have to add a large wing to this house if that
is the case," she said, much amused and pleased.
"But they must all be getting together in the library, and we had
better join them."
"Yes, I suppose so. What were you and Cyril talking about at dinner? I
only caught a word or two."
"Oh, I was consulting him on a series of articles I was requested to
write for a magazine."
"Didn't I hear something about editing one?"
"I dare say. That was one out of dozens of similar propositions."
"They keep you as busy as ever, it seems. And Laura is following in
your footsteps. Wasn't it a little tall in her to read her own story,
though?"
"No; there's nothing tall about her. She's just as fresh and unspoiled
as a rose-bud."
"I'm glad you think so. I can't bear to think of either of the girls as
being like the common feminine run."
They descended to the library, and found them all prepared to play some
game of wits, with pencil and paper.
"Oh, here come mamma and Fred," said Belle, gaily, "and they are two of
the brightest at this game. Where are the pencils? I have no pencil."
"I bought a box last Christmas," said Frank. "Surely they can't all be
gone."
"Oh, I'll get them," said Margaret. "I remember putting them in one of
the drawers in the library table. Yes, here they are. But they need
sharpening."
Thereupon, out came half a dozen penknives, and the gentlemen prepared
the pencils with great zeal. They were all, from Mrs. Grey down to
Gabrielle, fond of these innocent little games, and some of the
inspiration of the moment was so bright that Laura provided herself
with a blank-book, and took copies of them, that years later were read,
with great applause, at one of the Christmas gatherings.
"I want Belle to hold a Bible-reading some evening," said Cyril Heath.
"Oh, I couldn't," cried Belle, shrinking back.
"What's a Bible-reading?" asked Frank, interested at once.
"Belle has learned the English system, and holds two every week; one
on Sunday afternoon for myself and the children and servants; one for
a company of from twenty to thirty ladies; both in our own house; and
they are delightful. I believe that if they were held all over the
land, our country would be revolutionized. I never enjoyed the study of
the Bible as I have since we began it in this way. The children enjoy
it, too."
"Let us have one to-morrow evening, by all means," said Frank. "And
that will be something you can join in, Lily," he said, turning kindly
to his wife; "you who dislike games so."
Lily felt the unaccustomed tones, and gave a grateful look.
After they went to their room that night, Belle said to her husband:
"How could you propose my holding a Bible-reading with all those men?"
"Because I think you do it so nicely. Still, if you prefer it, I will
conduct it as long as the boys are at home. After they go I hope you
will take it."
The next evening they all gathered around the library-table, each with
a Bible in hand. Old Mary came, with her spectacles, very curious to
know what was to be done.
Mr. Heath chose the sixty-third Psalm, and called upon Frank, Jr., who
sat next him, to read the first verse. But Frank had not found his
place, and Gabrielle read for him.
"Now, in the ideal Bible-reading," said Mr. Heath, "the reader makes a
remark, or asks a question."
"I should like to ask, then, why David and others put the word 'my'
before the name of God, so often?"
"I think there are two reasons. In those days a large number of gods
were worshipped, and it was natural enough for men to distinguish
between them through the possessive case. Besides, the old saints all
had assurance of faith. They not only loved God, but they knew they
loved Him."
"The moment we put the possessive case before a thing, it assumes a
new interest for us," said Belle. "In prayer we say 'my' and 'our',
and I don't know that it would not be more reverent if we did it in
conversation. Some people have a flippant way, or what seems like
it, of saying, 'I told the Lord thus and so, and He said so and so.'
Wouldn't it sound less familiar if they put it 'my Lord'?"
"Perhaps so," said Mrs. Grey. "At any rate we must have assurance of
faith, if we are to grow in grace."
"Why must we, grandmamma?" asked Gabrielle.
"Because, if we keep digging up our seeds to see if they've sprouted,
or how many roots they have, we are in danger of destroying what
vitality they have."
The children all looked at each other with conscious smiles.
"I lost all my beans that way," said Frank, Jr. "Shall I read the next
verse, uncle?"
"Oh, no, we have only touched a corner of the first one yet."
As it turned out, this one verse served them for study an hour; an hour
enjoyed by the children as well as the elder ones; and all who engaged
in this exercise for the first time, were delighted with it. Mrs. Grey
resolved to start a reading among her neighbors; Laura said she should
do the same for hers; Margaret wondered if she could get courage to
hold one with half a dozen young girls of her acquaintance, and found
she could.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Grey received a note from Mrs. Grosgrain, imploring her
to come to her as soon as possible next morning.
"How fortunate that I have kept up the acquaintance," she said, running
over the note. "Now comes a chance to do them good."
"Grandmamma," said Gabrielle, "you are not going to see those kind of
people, and leave us, when we are having such nice times together?"
"That kind of people, not those kind. And of course I am going, for
they are in trouble."
"It's too bad. Everybody thinks you are made to look after them. And I
was in hopes you would finish reading that German story to me."
"I suppose you don't include yourself among the 'everybody'?" said
Frank, laughing.
"But, papa, we had just got to the most exciting part."
"I'll read the rest of it," said Margaret.
"You'll want to be painting."
"No; I don't paint in the holidays."
"Oh, no, you don't."
"I wonder if mamma ever thinks of herself one minute at a time,"
said Belle, as her mother retired to make preparations for the early
expedition of the morrow. "It is a real sacrifice to her to lose a
whole day of our visit; but she has trotted off to get ready, like a
girl. And she'll be thrown away on those Grosgrains."
"Yes, just thrown away," repeated Laura. "I wonder she doesn't see it."
"I dare say one of them has put her thumb out of joint," said Margaret,
feeling like anything but an angel towards the Grosgrains. "To think of
leaving all of you to go to see such people. However, I don't know that
it's any stranger than the way she lets herself be interrupted when she
is writing."
"Writing isn't her profession, you know," said Belle. "It never was.
She used to write as long ago as when we were babies, and yet did not
neglect us."
"I am doing the same," said Laura. "I mean to go on writing, but
Pug and Trot won't suffer from it. Of course scribbling is a mere
recreation. My profession is to be a good wife and mother, as I am sure
mamma's was. As to you, Margaret, you are a genius, and must make up
your mind never to marry."
"Thank you," said Margaret, dryly.
"Why, you don't mean to say that it isn't enough to be an artist!"
cried Laura, a little dubious as to what the dry tone meant.
"If by being an artist I have got to kill off my heart, and live for
fame, then an artist I won't be," returned Margaret. "I am in no hurry
to be married; and if I decide to be an old maid, it won't be without
children, I can tell you."
"And where do you expect to get them?"
"By begging, borrowing, buying, or stealing them," said Margaret, her
good humor returning at the thought.
"What, and bring them here to live?" asked Gabrielle.
"No, indeed. I must earn a home of my own first."
"Papa says you will make a great name for yourself," pursued Gabrielle.
"What do I want of a great name?" cried Margaret. "It is the very last
thing in the world a woman ought to seek."
"So I think," said Belle.
"But suppose she gets it without seeking?" asked Laura.
"Look here, Laura," said Margaret, springing up, "let me feel if you
have a pair of wings sprouting. It is my private opinion that you have,
and that it is you, not I, who is to be famous. And how stupid I was,
the first time I saw you, to fancy you just--just--"
"A goosey-gander? Yes, I was perfectly delighted to see how you
measured me after the first ridiculous talk we had together."
"I don't think it's nice to belie one's self as you do, Laura," said
Belle. "Even your own mother never knew you till this story of yours
opened her eyes."
Laura shrugged her shoulders.
"I shouldn't care to be so shallow that people could read me at a
glance," she said.
"One is not necessarily shallow because transparent," said Belle.
"Margaret, how nearly done is mamma's book?" asked Laura.
"So nearly that I think I hear it ringing the doorbell now. I saw an
expressman just drive up. Yes, here comes the parcel. Might we open it,
think?"
Laura replied by cutting the cord and throwing it upon the floor,
whence Belle picked it up and wound it around her fingers, and put it
away in her mother's string-box.
"How beautifully it is got up," said Laura. "But why wasn't it out at
Christmas?"
"Aunty thought it would be," said Margaret, "but there was unexpected
delay. Oh, are you each going to read it to yourselves?" she added,
in a disappointed tone, as she saw each take possession of a volume.
"I thought we should read it aloud. Aunty, your books have come," she
cried, as Mrs. Grey here entered the room.
"Indeed? Just in time for me to take one to Mrs. Grosgrain."
"Pooh! Always Grosgrain!" thought Margaret; but took one of the volumes
and folded it carefully in a fresh sheet of paper, and placed it on the
library-table, and the next morning reminded Mrs. Grey to take it with
her.