It was a beautiful morning; Selina and Matilda had been allowed to
breakfast at Woodlands, and were to return to Elmgrove with Leila after
a visit to Peggy Dobie’s cottage, for the old gardener had promised to
be there by ten o’clock with the bee-hive, and he was faithful to his
word, for, as they reached the cottage, they found Peggy opening the
little wicket-gate leading to the garden, to admit him and his precious
burden; the hive was safely placed in a sunny, sheltered corner, close
to the green turf seat which Leila had erected for Peggy, and to witness
her joy with the whole arrangement was delightful. She placed herself on
the turf seat, and with her hands clasped firmly together on her knees,
she kept gazing on the hive in a perfect ecstasy of delight.
“Weel, my bairns,” she exclaimed, “you hae surely entered into a compact
to spoil the auld woman all thegither. If there was a wish in my heart,
amang all the grand things, and the wonderfu’ blessings that surround
me, it was for a bee’s skep; it is no’ to be told the love I hae for
thae creatures, they will be friends to me, and company to me, and
example too, for they are a weel principled, upright set, never leaving
their ain house, but for the useful work o’ the day; and sae blythe and
contented, for a constant singing that bonnie sang amang the flowers,
that’s just music to my ears. Can ony mortal man, or woman either, hae a
pleasanter employment than just to sit down afore a bee’s skep, and tak
observation o’ their wonderfu’ ways? and is there nae honourable mention
made o’ the work o’ their hands in the very Bible itsel’, Deuteronomy
thirty-second chapter, thirteenth verse: ‘He made him ride on the high
places of the earth, that he might eat the incense of the fields, and he
made him to suck honey out of the rock.’ And in the eighty-second Psalm,
sixteenth verse: ‘He should have fed them also with the finest of wheat,
and with honey out of the rock should I have satisfied thee.’ Na, na,
it’s no thae jams and jellies, and sic articles o’ man’s contrivance,
that ye hear tell o’ them, but it’s the handiwork o’ thae wonderfu’
creatures that’s had in honour; and I maun just end, as I began, and say
to you, my dear bairns, that you could na hae given me a greater
compliment than this bonnie bee’s skep.”
“But, Peggy,” Matilda observed, “we did not give it you, it was Cousin
Leila; she saved up her money to buy it for you; we only came to see
your joy.”
“Oh, but it is a dear bairn,” Peggy said, looking fondly at Leila, “and
sae generous, and sae thoughtfu’ for her years. Weel, I am no just the
woman I was, for my head’s often unco confused now, and my memory’s no
o’ the best since that fearfu’ journey; but surely I’ll forget my
ainsel, afore I forget all she has done for me.”
“Don’t say that,” Leila said anxiously, “don’t say you are not just the
same; you are looking as well as you ever did now, and you must be quite
happy and cheery,--I don’t like to see you look grave. We have never
been grave since you came back, every day as merry and cheery as can be;
and you have never told us yet if you saw all your friends in comfort
before you came away from Scotland, and if you enjoyed yourself with
them very much.”
“And did I no’, Miss Leila? ’Deed, ’tis no possible to say the pleasant
tea drinkings I had afore I came away; but the very pleasantest of all
was the last night but ane afore I got into the awfu’ ship. It was at my
cousin, Mrs Brown’s, and nae strangers but my ain kith and kind. There
was, forby hersel, just four o’ us. There was mysel, that’s ane; and
there was the twa Dobies, that’s twa; and there was Johnny, man, that’s
three; tuts, but there was four o’ us. There was Johnny, man, that’s
ane; and there was the twa Dobies, that’s twa; and there was mysel,
that’s three,--but there _was_ four o’ us; weel, I’ll begin wi’ mysel
this time. There was mysel, that’s ane; and the twa Dobies, that’s twa;
and Johnny, man, that’s three; preserve me, for I am clean stupid all
thegither! There was Johnny, man, that’s ane; and there was the twa
Dobies, that’s twa; and there was mysel, that’s three,--and if I am no
at mysel again. Weel, and I maun gie it up all thegither; but I am
morally certain there was just four of us.”
The young people were in such fits of laughter that they could give
Peggy no assistance whatever in this mysterious calculation; and Peggy
herself joined heartily in the laugh, only remarking that they might see
now that sometimes she was no just sae clear as she used to be, but that
ony way it was a most pleasant party, and that there _was just four o’
them_.
They could have remained for ever talking with her, and, as Matilda
observed, had received most useful instruction in arithmetic, a far
better way of adding up than she had been taught; but there were other
lessons to be attended to, and most unwillingly they bid good-bye to
Peggy, and proceeded on their way home. Leila, however, observed that it
would be almost as near to return by the village; she wished, so much,
she said, to ask Dame Burton how Lizzy was going on, and it was so
pleasant to see the little things running to meet them; besides, she
added, as they had a half holiday, they would still be home in time--so
to the village they went. By the time they reached Dame Burton’s cottage
they had quite a little troop of rosy, laughing children following them,
quite eager to be talked to and noticed; but Lizzy was not among them,
nor did they see her with her mother on entering the house. Leila
inquired for her, and hoped she had been going on well. Dame Burton
shook her head. “Oh, Miss Howard,” she said, “Lizzy gives me much
vexation of spirit, and I don’t know what course to take with that
child. I have a kind neighbour, who did much for me in a long illness,
and it’s well my part to be kind to her now; she has an old mother, who
is not able to get up very early, and at times, when this friend of mine
has any work to do which takes her out of her house, I send in Lizzy to
help the old woman on with her clothes, and to be company to her; I will
not say that she is a very kindly old woman, she may give a sharp
enough answer now and then to the children, but is that an excuse for
what Lizzy did, and for the sight I saw?”
“But what did you see?” Matilda eagerly inquired. “You have not told
us.”
“What did I see, miss? I saw the poor old woman sitting shaking on her
chair with indignation and rage, her flannel petticoat tied round her
neck, she neither able to stir hand or foot, and Lizzy off to her play!”
They all felt this act to be of a most atrocious nature, but the picture
of the old woman tied up, as it were, in a flannel bag was too much, and
the difficulty of restraining their laughter was very great; Leila
struggled hard for composure: “It was very dreadful,” she said; “but
where is Lizzy now?”
“She is not far off,” Dame Burton answered, in a loud tone, as if she
wished to be overheard by some one; “not far off, young ladies, and she
is experiencing (as you shall see) a little of what she made other
people suffer; but she is young, I tell her, and better able to bear
it.” She threw open the door of the adjoining room, and there sat little
Lizzy, propped up on a high stool in the middle of the floor, her little
flannel petticoat tied round her neck, and her little face no longer
dimpled with its accustomed smiles, but swelled with weeping; her look
of shame and helpless distress, when she saw them enter, was too much;
Leila could not stand it, she covered her face with her hands.
Selina spoke aside for a few minutes to Dame Burton; “You will not
forget to send her to Elmgrove,” they heard her say.
“No, Miss Stanley; and I hope you may be able to make more impression on
her than I can,” was her answer. Selina, then turning round to where the
little culprit sat, undid the string of the little flannel petticoat,
took it off, wiped Lizzy’s eyes gently with her pocket-handkerchief, and
lifting her down from the high stool, led her to her mother. The poor
child was weeping bitterly. She appeared most penitent, and as it seemed
better that she should at that moment be left alone with her mother, the
young people quitted the cottage.
In giving her old nurse an account of her day, which was Leila’s general
custom, she mentioned what had taken place with regard to Lizzy, and
Amy, who was present, almost started off her chair with astonishment and
indignation. “And is it possible,” she said, “that she could treat an
old woman in that way? Oh, how very dreadful!”
“Yes,” Nurse answered, “you may well be surprised and shocked, Amy, for
it would be long before you would act in such a manner. You have always
had a becoming respect for your elders, and shown a quietness and
discretion above your years. And now, Miss Leila, this should be an
awful warning to you; you see to what the love of play may lead, and
must understand now why I always tried to root the evil out of your
heart, and to settle you down to your work with serious reflection; and
you are far from what I could wish yet, you still give me many an
anxious thought. There it was but the other day, when I gave you that
collar to trim; any well brought up young lady would have taken an
interest in having such a beautiful edging to sew on, and would have
arranged it properly in quarters, and pinned it before her hand, but
there were you rumpling it on as if it were a rag, putting all the
fulness in the middle, not a thought of how you were to turn the
corners. Did it ever strike you that _that_ collar never could have been
ironed? Oh, Miss Leila, try to think more deeply of those things, before
it is too late.”
“But, Nurse,” Leila said, in a deprecating tone of voice, “though I am
not very fond of work, I am sure I never would have tied you up in a
flannel _bag_!”
Nurse drew up her little fat round figure in a dignified manner. “Look
at me, Miss Leila, am I the sort of person to be tied up in a flannel
bag?”
Leila thought it would be difficult.
Nurse continued,--“No, Miss Leila, I have always brought you up in
proper habits of respect; but it was not of flannel bags we were
talking, but of that want of serious reflection when you take a piece of
work into your hands; there, about that _very_ collar, you had been
quiet for a time, and I thought had settled down to it, when you
suddenly broke out with--‘Oh, Nurse! look at those clouds; did you ever
see any thing so beautiful? they are like magnificent mountains, bathed
in golden light.’ What sort of nonsense was that, Miss Leila, to be
seeing mountains in the clouds, instead of the work that was before you;
and do you remember when I made you turn your back to the window, and
sit with your face opposite to me, how you kept tapping your foot on the
ground with anger and indignation? but I am not wishing to vex you at
this moment, for I am sure the awful lesson of this day will make a
proper impression; so sit down and let me see how quickly and how nicely
you will stitch round this pocket that I have cut out for you, for you
know I have no opinion of the new fangled way of bringing up young
ladies not to wear pockets, and with every thing belonging to them to be
hunted for all over the house.”
“Yes, Nurse,” Leila answered, “give it me, and you shall see how nicely
I will do it; but when I told Lydia Mildmay that to wear a pocket was
highly respectable, she laughed at me very much.”
“And did she really, Miss Leila? then I am sure she is a most improper
and dangerous companion for you; and, indeed, I thought as much that day
I saw her sailing about, sweeping all the carpets with those long
flounces of hers. Now here is your work; sit down, and let me see how
busy you can be.”
Leila seated herself. After a few minutes’ silence, she said, rather
doubtingly,--“But, Nurse, would not bags be better?”
“Bags!” Nurse repeated in a displeased tone; “bags, Miss Leila, seem to
run strangely in your head to-day. And why should bags be better?”
“Because,” Leila answered, “long ago they made use of bags.”
“_They?_ of whom are you speaking. _Who_ made use of bags?”
“The people of Nineveh. I saw them--they were little square bags; it was
more than three thousand years ago.”
Nurse looked up with a startled expression. “Saw the people of Nineveh!
three thousand years ago! Oh, Miss Leila! speak to me again; what are
you talking of? Do you feel any thing particular? what is the matter
with you?”
Leila burst into a fit of laughter. “Why should I feel any thing
particular because I saw the people of Nineveh and they had bags? I saw
them on the bas reliefs.”
“Bas leaf!” Nurse repeated, still more frightened. “Oh, Amy! she is not
speaking English! What has come over the dear child?”
Leila struggled hard to regain her composure, for she saw her good old
nurse was really getting seriously alarmed. “Nurse,” she said, “don’t be
frightened; I know quite well what I am saying. I saw the figures of the
people of Nineveh, carved on stones, at the British Museum. You know
papa took me there, and he told me these stones had lain in the earth
more than three thousand years. You know Nineveh was overthrown. Do you
remember the prophecy in the Bible? it says, ‘Nineveh is laid waste, who
will bemoan her?’ And it was laid waste--it was overthrown--they are
digging it up again now.”
“Well, Miss Leila, I may not be a good judge of such matters, but I
think they had better let that alone, and not be bringing their evil
deeds to light again. You know the Bible also says,--‘Woe to the bloody
city, it is full of lies and robbery;’ and we are told to flee from it.”
“Then I am afraid you will not like to go there and see those wonderful
things, and I asked papa if you might take Amy there.”
“No, Miss Leila, I would rather not; and I can’t help thinking that the
less she knows of the people of Nineveh the better; she can learn no
good lesson from them.”
“But, Nurse, there are a great many other things to be seen at the
Museum besides--I am sure you would like to see the wild beasts and the
birds. Oh! the birds are so beautiful; how Amy would admire the little
humming-birds--they are scarcely bigger than the wild bees we had in the
island; they have such lovely feathers, purple, and green, and scarlet,
and all beautiful bright colours. Papa says that when they are flitting
about amongst the flowers, they are quite splendid and dazzling to the
eye; and they shoot those dear little birds with little guns loaded with
water; the water does not injure their feathers by wounding them, it
only frightens them, and then they fall down and die. There were no
humming-birds in the island. I wish there had been--I would not have
shot them, even with water, but I would have tried to catch them in some
way without hurting them, and would have tamed them as I did my other
birds; I do hope you will go to the Museum, Nurse, and take Amy, she
will be so surprised, for I don’t think there is a bird in the whole
world that is not there; and I am sure you would like to see the owls,
for you like wise birds, and they look so wise; there were large owls,
and little owls, and every kind, and one little owl near the corner of
the glass case had such a pretty face. Then there were beautiful
pheasants--and the argus-pheasant with its thousand eyes; oh! you must
go; Amy, would not you like it so much?”
“Yes, Miss Leila, I would like it; but a bird with a thousand eyes, I
think it would frighten me.”
“No, it would not,” Leila answered, smiling; “for it has not really a
thousand eyes, it has only spots on its feathers; but it is a poetical
way of speaking that----”
Nurse looked very grave. “How often have I told you, Miss Leila, that I
do not like a poetical way of speaking, and now you see the bad effects
of it; from my experience, I knew that no bird had a thousand eyes, but
Amy did not; you should speak to her in a way she can understand; but
you do run on so. Is there no possibility of making you think of what
you are about? I see clearly that pocket never will be finished.”
Leila was silent for a moment, then jumping up from her seat, she held
the pocket up in the air in a triumphant manner, exclaiming,--“Now,
Nurse, look if I cannot both talk and stitch; see, it is quite finished,
and beautifully done; and now I must go and sing to papa.”
“She is a dear child,” Nurse observed, as she looked up for a moment
from her work and followed Leila’s light steps with affectionate
interest; “and she is far from being a bad needle-woman either, though I
should like well to see her more steady, and taking a greater interest
in it; but, Amy, though Miss Leila in most things sets you a most
superior example, you must never talk as she does sometimes--you must
never be what she calls poetical. I would rather that she were not so
either; but that is a matter for her papa to decide, not me.”