OPPOSITION.
"I am with you alway."
MABEL'S friends exclaimed and protested against this new freak. Her
father and mother insisted that her health was insufficient; that the
tax upon her nervous system would be too severe; that she already
had duties enough at home and in society to fill up her time. Mr.
and Mrs. Wynn belonged to that large class of professing Christians,
who, whenever the call comes for more labourers in the vineyard, talk
largely of home duties and influence in society, the demands of their
position, and the like, excusing their worldly-mindedness with this
sort of twaddle about "the claims of society."
As for Mabel's health, an incessant round of parties, picnics, pleasure
excursions, making calls and entertaining company, was never supposed
to overtax her nervous system. It was only when she was compelled to
step outside the world of fashion that her parents' anxieties were
awakened. They never connected the days of languor, headache, and
lassitude with late hours and excitement. The "claims of society" never
overtax body or mind!
"But, father," said Mabel, "I think this is one of the duties I owe to
society—to help those boys into right ways, if I can, so that they may
be its ornaments when they get to be men."
"That's just what I object to!" interposed Mrs. Wynn. "Those boys! If
you had chosen a class of sweet little girls, it wouldn't be quite so
bad. But those rough, uncouth boys! Why, they'll hang about you, step
on your dress, use your fan, handle your parasol, speak to you in the
street, and annoy you in a dozen different ways."
Mabel smiled at her mother's list of the unpleasant features of the
case. It would be such a terrible thing to have Herbert Bradford or
Lewie Amesbury lift his cap gracefully, as either of them knew how to
do, and accompany the act with a smiling, "Good morning, Miss Wynn!"
Then, too, she remembered that young Mr. Cranson had stepped upon
her dress at the picnic, and tore off a yard or two of ruffling, and
Dr. Myers had played with her fan, as one or more broken splints
would testify, and her mother had not seemed to look upon either
as unpardonable offences. But young Mr. Cranson was the son of a
millionaire, and Dr. Myers was—ah! Well, he was Dr. Myers! Perhaps he
will speak for himself.
Mrs. Wynn continued, not noticing Mabel's amused look—
"Besides, you won't be able to manage them. I've heard Mr. Clarke say
it was the worst class in school. They have had I don't know how many
teachers within the last six months. The last was Professor Mills. I
shouldn't think you would undertake where he had failed."
It was true, that class of bright-eyed, eager-faced boys had the
reputation of being the most unmanageable set in the school, and Mabel
know it. She answered—
"Mother, I did not choose—" She hesitated. Should she speak of the
entire consecration she had made of her young life to the cause of
Christ? Would they understand her if she told them that she believed
God had called her to that very class? It was only a moment: then she
went on—
"If I give myself to the Sabbath-school work, or any other work for the
Master, it is not for me to choose the place. If I am called to this
post, I shall, in some way, be made equal to it."
"But, Mabel," continued her mother, "it will be so very inconvenient.
You cannot walk home, and Michael will not like driving back for you.
If you persist in this absurd notion, I suppose I shall have to give
up going to church, for I cannot endure the fatigue of remaining to
Sabbath-school."
"O mother! It won't be so bad as that. The church is only half-way to
the seminary, and I used to walk to school and home again every day
in pleasant weather, and I ought not to have grown so delicate in two
years as to be unable to walk a quarter of a mile. I do it very often
now when out calling or shopping."
"Yes, I know; but there will be rainy Sundays, and besides the
dinner hour will interfere. Dear me! I do wish you would give up
the ridiculous notion. Everything will be turned upside down if you
persist."
Mabel was slightly amused at the idea of her mother's well-ordered
establishment being so easily reversed. Then she looked grave as she
thought if it were a music lesson, or a dancing lesson, or a croquet
club, at any hour of any week-day, breakfast, dinner, or supper would
speedily adjust itself to the arrangement. Of so much more apparent
importance were these things than the grand work of saving souls, of
training the young for the life in this world and for that which is to
follow, and which is eternal! Dinner or the Master's work—which shall
take precedence?
"Mother," she said, calmly, "there are always difficulties in the way
of any undertaking of importance, and I suppose that it is a part of
our business to overcome or push them aside. As for rainy Sundays,
you and father very seldom go out in unpleasant weather, and I think
Michael will help me over that difficulty. As for dinner, I'll take a
lunch and wait for supper."
Mrs. Wynn had other objections to urge, or thought she had.
"How obstinate you are, Mabel! I don't want you turned into a prim
young woman, going about with your arms full of Testaments in black
covers, and Tract Society publications without any covers at all,
mixing up with all sorts of people, and getting put on committees and
appointed as delegate to conventions, and all that sort of thing. And
then if one of those horrid boys gets the measles or mumps, he will be
sure to send for you to visit him instead of the minister. Don't be a
fanatic, I beg of you."
Mabel made no reply, and her mother continued—
"I don't want to be understood as being opposed to Sunday-schools.
I think them a very good thing in their way, and you know that your
father is very liberal in giving for the cause. But there are plenty
of people to carry them on—people who have nothing else to do—people
who are not in society, and who make the concerts, excursions, and such
things a sort of substitute for the entertainments of our circle. For
them it is all very well, but as for you—"
"As for me, mother," interrupted Mabel, "I beg your pardon for
rudeness, but I want to finish that sentence. As for me, I believe that
I ought to help. It is Christ's work, and I have no real excuse for
standing idle. I want you to consent, just as you would if I proposed
to join Professor Mills's Greek class. Let me try it for a few months.
It may not be so annoying as you think."
Mr. Wynn had occupied himself with the morning paper while this talk
went on, but he had not been so absorbed as to lose the drift of
the arguments. Mrs. Wynn really fancied that she had used powerful
arguments, while Mabel had but one to urge. "I think I ought," was
sufficient for her, and to this her father now responded,—
"'As he thinketh in his heart so is he.' I think, Helen, you'll have to
yield the point. Mabel's one argument really outweighs all ours. Let
her try it."
Mabel looked her thanks, and the ever-courteous Mr. Wynn bowed himself
out, and hurried away to the store.
"There!" exclaimed his wife. "I might have known how it would be.
However strongly your father may be set against any of your odd
fancies, he is sure to come around, and you get your own way at last.
I only wonder that you were not entirely spoiled, for you have had
everything you wanted ever since you were born."
"That's so, mother," laughed Mabel. "And who gave me the gilt toilet
set to play with, and the inlaid work-box for a doll-house, and let me
handle those choice prints that show my fingermarks until this very
day? Who coaxed father into giving me a gold watch as soon as I was
fairly in my teens, and how did I get the white pony, and a host of
other things? I guess somebody besides father would have to own to part
of the spoiling."
"Oh, but those were reasonable things compared with some of your whims.
But never mind now, the question seems to be settled, so we won't talk
any more about it. Just run and tell Miss Moore that she may finish the
blue poplin skirt this morning, and I will be in about eleven to have
the grosgrain fitted."
Thus Mrs. Wynn dismissed the subject and turned to one more agreeable;
and after all, the whole matter seemed so very unimportant, not
worth making a fuss over. Very likely Mabel would soon tire of her
undertaking. Anyway, she did not propose to trouble herself further
about the affair. Mrs. Wynn was somewhat inclined to aristocratic
ideas, and somewhat chary of her welcome and favours to those outside
of "our set." Then, too, she had a horror of fanaticism; and while she
rejoiced that Mabel had early taken her place among Christ's disciples,
she thought her too enthusiastic, feared she would be over-zealous, and
was distressed with apprehension lest some of the proprieties of their
circle should be disregarded. She did not see that Mabel was making
high attainments in the Christian life, that God was fitting her to do
him service. It seemed a lowly place to which he had called her. Was it?