[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: "In an instant Katie Maynard snatched her up in her
arms."--p. 62]
BESSIE AT SCHOOL
BY
JOANNA H. MATHEWS
"Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever
things are just; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise,
think on these things."
"He that speaketh the truth in his heart."
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
BROADWAY HOUSE, 68-74 CARTER LANE, E.C.
TO
THE SUNBEAM OF OUR BRIGHT HOME,
MY SISTER GERTRUDE
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. A SURPRISE
II. GRANDMAMMA'S STORY
III. SCHOOL
IV. SCHOOLMATES
V. THE PRIZES
VI. BELLE
VII. THE HURT FOOT
VIII. THE BROKEN CLOCK
IX. THE CONFESSION
X. A LITTLE LIGHT
XI. ABOUT "OUR FATHER'S" WORK
XII. BESSIE'S PARTY
XIII. LOST AND FOUND
XIV. THE AWARD
XV. A LETTER
PREFACE
The author had intended that "Bessie among the Mountains" should
close the series; but the entreaties of her young readers for "more
Bessie books" have induced the publishers and herself to extend it
somewhat further.
The following gratifying and touching communication is given here in
the hope that this may meet the eye of her little unknown
correspondent,--who has not given her residence,--and that she will
send word where a letter may reach her:--
"DEAR LADY,--I love you for you write such nice Bessie books and I
want to see you but I dont kno where you live and papa says I can
send this to Mr. Carter. Please write a 100 Bessie books Bessie in
truble and Bessie in plesure Bessie sick Bessie well and all. But
not her mama to go to heven for my mama and the baby went to heven
and I cry abot it yet and I want my mama in my hoeme. I am name
Bessie but not so nice as book Bessie and I have 2 Maggies one my
sister nice and good and one not nice and only a chamermade and
dirty. And I love you dear lady and here is a kiss [kiss] for you.
BESSIE----."
But, pleased as the writer is with this precious little letter, she
feels that "a 100 Bessie books" would tire even this enthusiastic
young reader; and so, if the little friends who have gone with Maggie
and Bessie to the seaside and the mountains, who have visited them in
their home and accompanied them to school, will by and by go with
them on their travels, we will afterwards say good-bye to them, with
kind wishes on both sides, and the hope that there may be other
children in some corner of her brain whose acquaintance will not be
less agreeable than that of our Maggie and Bessie.
J. H. M.
BESSIE AT SCHOOL.
CHAPTER I.
_A SURPRISE._
Bessie lay fast asleep upon mamma's sofa, for she and Maggie had been
with Uncle Ruthven and Aunt Bessie for a long drive; and the little
one, quite tired, had curled herself up among the cushions, and still
was nestling there, unconscious of all that was passing.
Mamma thought it a good thing that her delicate little girl could
drop off to sleep so easily, and so gain the rest she needed after
any fatigue; but wide-awake Maggie thought it rather a troublesome
fashion of Bessie's, and wondered that any one, who was not obliged
to do it, could "waste being alive in taking naps."
But just now she did not mind this quite as much as usual, for she
was sitting on a low stool at her mother's feet, busy copying a
letter to Mrs. Porter which she and Bessie had composed together.
For Maggie no longer printed her letters and compositions, but wrote
them in a large round hand, quite easy to read. But, in order to do
it well, she had to pay close attention to her writing; and, since
Bessie could not help her, she was contented to have her lie quietly
asleep on the sofa for the time. Mrs. Bradford was leaning back upon
the pillows in her easy-chair, looking so pale and thin and weak that
even a child could have told that she had been ill.
Indeed she had been--the dear, precious mamma!--so ill, that for some
days it seemed as if she were to be taken from her little ones. But
the merciful Father above had heard and granted the prayers of all
the loving hearts whose earthly happiness she made, and hope and joy
came back to the pleasant home from which, for a time, they had flown
away. It had been a great delight to Maggie and Bessie to see her
walk into the nursery, leaning on papa's arm, that morning; and even
baby Annie seemed to know it was something to rejoice at, for she
came toddling to her mamma, and hid her face in her skirts, with a
sweet, crowing laugh, which was full of joy and love.
And when, a little while after, Bessie sat looking earnestly at her
mother, with eyes which seemed as if they could not take their fill,
and was asked by her of what she was thinking, the answer was,--
"I was thinking two things, mamma. One was, what a very great
thanksgiving we ought to make; and the other was, how very
disappointed the angels must be, not to have you in heaven, after
all."
"Oh," said Maggie, "I guess the angels are too glad for us to be very
sorry for their own disappointment."
But though mamma was much better, she was still very feeble, and it
was necessary that she should be very careful not to fatigue or
excite herself; and the doctor said it would be some weeks, perhaps
months, before she would be able to go about her usual duties and
occupations.
A book lay upon Mrs. Bradford's lap, but she was not reading. She
sat watching the busy fingers of her little daughter with a look that
was somewhat anxious and troubled.
"There!" said Maggie at last, looking up from her letter with a
satisfied air; "when Bessie has put her name under mine it will be
all done. Do you think Mrs. Porter will be able to make it out,
mamma?"
"If she does not, I think it will be the fault of her eyes, and not
of my Maggie's fingers," said Mrs. Bradford, smiling as she looked at
the large, plain letters upon the sheet which Maggie held up before
her. "That is very well done, my daughter; and Mrs. Porter will be
gratified when she sees how much pains you have taken."
Well pleased at her mother's praise, which she certainly deserved,
Maggie carefully laid by her letter until Bessie should be awake to
sign it, and then came back to mamma's side for a little petting and
loving.
"Maggie, darling," said Mrs. Bradford presently, laying her thin hand
caressingly on the rosy cheek which nestled against her shoulder,
"how should you like to go to school?"
Maggie raised her head quickly.
"O mamma!" she exclaimed.
Mrs. Bradford had fully expected to see just such a look, and hear
just such a tone; but she only said, "Well, dear?"
"Mamma, I never could bear it--never, never. Why, I suppose you
would not teach us any longer then; and besides, mamma, strange girls
go to school, do they not?"
"Girls who are strangers to you, you mean, dear?"
"Yes'm."
"Well, yes," said Mrs. Bradford slowly, for this was even a greater
trial to her than it was to Maggie. "I suppose there would be some
girls whom you did not know, but not a great many; for it would be
but a small class to which I should send you. Do you remember that
pleasant Miss Ashton whom you saw here one day, just after we came
home from Chalecoo?"
"Yes'm; and we liked her looks so much."
"Well, she is going to have a class of little girls for two or three
hours each day. Lily Norris, Gracie Howard, and one or two others
whom you know, are to join it; and she came here to know if I would
like you to do so. But I wished still to teach you myself this
winter, and said 'no.' But now that I have been so ill, I feel that
I must give up this pleasure, for it will not do for you to lose so
much time. So, as Miss Ashton has still one or two places to be
filled, I think I shall send you to her. You will not find it hard
after the first day or two. Miss Ashton is a very kind, gentle young
lady; you already know several of your classmates, and with the rest
you will soon become acquainted. Miss Ashton's mother is to have a
class of older girls, but they will be in another room, and need not
interfere with you. With all this to make it easy and agreeable for
you, do you not think you will be able to bear it?"
"I could not; indeed, mamma, I could not," said Maggie, making a
great effort to speak steadily.
"Not if it would be a great help to your sick mother, dear?"
Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat, winked her eyes very hard to
keep back the tears, and answered, "Yes, if it would be that, I
could, mamma. I think I would do anything that would be a help to
you, even if it did hurt my own feelings dreadfully."
"My own dear little girl!" said Mrs. Bradford, tenderly kissing the
flushed face which looked up into hers so wistfully. "But I do not
believe you will find this as hard a trial as you imagine, Maggie.
After the first day or two, I hope you will not only be quite willing
to go to school, but that you will really take pleasure in it."
Maggie shook her head very dolefully.
"That could never be, mamma; but I will try not to feel too badly
about it. But," with a look at her sleeping sister, "I am glad
Bessie won't mind it so much as I will. She'll feel very badly to
know you're not going to teach us any more, but then she won't care
so much about the strange girls and the strange school."
Mrs. Bradford looked troubled. She had not imagined that Maggie
thought she meant to send Bessie to school also, and now that she saw
this was so, she knew what a blow it would be to the poor child to
hear that her sister was not to go.
"My darling," she said, "we do not intend--your father and I--to send
Bessie to school this winter. We think her too young, and not strong
enough, and that much study would not be good for her."
Poor Maggie! This was more than she had bargained to "bear," the one
drop too much in her full cup. She could no longer choke back her
tears, but fell into a passion of sobbing and crying which her mother
found it impossible for some minutes to quiet. It was only the
recollection that her mamma was not to be worried, which at last
helped the child to conquer it. And it was Bessie who put her in
mind of this; for her sobs had roused her little sister, who, waking
and slipping down from the sofa, came running to know what could be
the matter with her usually merry, cheerful Maggie.
"Maggie, dear," said the thoughtful Bessie, "I'm very sorry for you,
but you know the doctor said mamma was not to have any _ercitement_
or 'sturbance, and I'm 'fraid you're making one for her. I s'pose
you forgot."
In another moment Maggie had checked her loud sobs, though the tears
would not be controlled just yet; and, looking from her to her
mother's anxious face, a new fear came into Bessie's mind.
"Mamma," she said, looking wistfully up at her mother, "is our Father
going to make you worse again, and take you away from us after all?"
"No, my darling; I trust not," said Mrs. Bradford. "Maggie's trouble
is by no means so great a one as that--is it, dear Maggie? I have
just been telling her that she is to go to school this winter, and
she is rather distressed; but she will soon feel better about it.
She will only be away for two or three hours each day, and will soon
be quite accustomed to her new teacher and her classmates, and learn
to like them."
Bessie looked very sober, and, after a moment, she said, with a long
sigh,--
"Well, dear mamma, you know it is a pretty great trial to think you
can't teach us now; but we'll try not to mind it so much as to make
you feel bad, and maybe I can help Maggie to get used to the girls
and the teacher, 'cause you know I am not so shy as she is, and I
s'pose I'll 'come acquainted with them sooner than she will. And if
we don't like the other girls very much, we won't mind it when we
have each other--need we, Maggie?" and she took her sister's hand
with a tender, protecting air, which was both amusing and touching to
see.
So the little one herself was also taking it for granted that, since
Maggie was to go to school, she was to go too.
It was only natural, as the mother knew. They had never been
separated. One never half enjoyed a pleasure unless the other shared
it; and all their childish troubles were made lighter and easier to
bear, because they were together, and could give comfort and help to
one another; and Mrs. Bradford was sure it would be as great a blow
to Bessie as it had been to Maggie to know that they were to be
parted even for two or three hours each day.
"But I mean to keep my Bessie at home with me," she said, trying to
speak cheerfully; "and every day, when Maggie comes back, she will
tell us all she has seen and learned; and it will be nice to watch
for her, and have some little pleasure ready for her when she returns
to us, will it not?"
"Mamma," said Bessie, struggling with herself, lest she too should
break down in tears, and so distress her mother, but still speaking
with a very quivering voice,--"Mamma, you never could mean that
Maggie is to go to school without me, could you? You are making
rather a bad joke, are you not?"
The beseeching voice, the pleading eyes, and trembling lips, went
straight to the mother's heart, and would not let her smile at the
innocent ending of Bessie's speech.
"I really mean what I say, darling," she answered. "Papa and I have
talked it all over; and, although we know it is hard for you and
Maggie to be separated even for a little while, we do not think it
best for you to go. You are not very strong, and it would not be
well for you to study much for a year or two. If you were with other
children, you might try too hard, for you know you do not like to be
left behind; and as you can read pretty well now, we think we will
let you be a lazy little girl for this winter, and keep you at home
to take care of mamma."
"Mamma," said Bessie earnestly, "you know I'd rather be with you than
anywhere, even with my own Maggie; and I only want to go to school on
'count of Maggie's sake. But you have a great many people to take
care of you, 'cause papa or grandmamma or one of the aunties stays
with you all the time; and poor Maggie would be so very lonesome
without any of her own people. And, mamma, it seems pretty queer to
want a little girl to be lazy; but, if you'd like me to, I'll be so
very lazy that Miss Ashton will say, 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard!'"
Mrs. Bradford could not help smiling; but she said, "That might do,
dear, if Miss Ashton were to teach no one but yourself and Maggie;
but she would probably think it would not answer to have a little
girl in her class who could not do as the others did. She might say
it would be a bad example, or that the rest might think it was not
fair."
"But, mamma," pleaded Bessie, "don't you think if you told Miss
Ashton how very fond Maggie and I are of each other, and how badly
she would feel if she had to go without me, it might have a little
persuasion for her? You know you were very kind to her when her
father died, and maybe she would like to have some gratitude for you."
"I daresay Miss Ashton would be very glad to please me, Bessie; but
she has to consider not so much what she would like, as what is right
and best to do. However, she is coming here this afternoon for my
answer about Maggie, and I will ask her if she can make any
arrangement that will do for you. If she can, then we will see what
papa says; but I do not wish either of you to think too much about
it, lest you should be disappointed in the end."
Mamma talked to them a little longer, trying to persuade them to look
on the bright side of this, to them, great trouble; till Bessie,
noticing how weak her voice was, and how pale she looked, asked if
she were not tired. Mamma said, "yes," and that she thought she must
rest a while if she were to see Miss Ashton that afternoon.
This was enough for the tender little nurses; and grandmamma, who had
left them in charge, coming in soon after, found Mrs. Bradford asleep
on the sofa, with Maggie gently rubbing her feet and Bessie as softly
threading her fingers through her mother's hair. But, quiet as they
were, their thoughts were very busy and their hearts very full; and
Maggie, contrary to her usually cheerful spirit, had been imagining
all kinds of disagreeable occurrences which might happen to her at
school, and looking upon herself quite as a little martyr; and now,
as her grandmamma nodded and smiled at her, she was surprised, not
only to see the traces of tears on her cheeks, but also that her eyes
were still swimming; while Bessie's face wore the piteous look it
always did when anything had distressed her. Seeing that Mrs.
Bradford was fast asleep, and would not be disturbed if her children
ceased their loving tending, she beckoned them into their own room,
where, sitting down on a low chair she lifted Bessie on her lap, and,
drawing Maggie to her, asked what had grieved them.
Their trouble was soon told; but grandmamma, having known before that
the thing was to be, was not surprised, nor as shocked as Maggie had
expected and hoped she would be. Now, perhaps some of you little
girls, who know what a happy, pleasant place a school may be, will
think our Maggie very foolish to dread it so much; but those among
you who are shy and timid will have some idea of how she felt. Her
fear of strangers was really a great cross to her, and she would even
sometimes refuse some offered pleasure rather than be thrown with
people whom she did not know. This was one reason why her mamma
thought it was better for her to go to school, that being with other
children might help to rub off this uncomfortable shyness, so
troublesome to herself and her friends.
"Mr. Porter said once," said Maggie, when Bessie had finished her
doleful story, "that God sometimes had to take away our blessings to
teach us how much they were worth; and I'm afraid it's just for that
He is punishing me this way, for I don't think I ever knew till now
what a great blessing it was to have mamma teach me, and sometimes I
even used to feel a little cross when she called us to our lessons.
So I s'pose, when I was so ungrateful, He thought it was just good
enough for me to go to a hateful old school, full of strange girls
and a strange teacher and everything, and not Bessie to go, nor any
one who loves me. Oh dear! oh dear!" and Maggie now gave way to the
tears and sobs which she had checked before, for fear they should
distress her sick mother.
Her grandmamma let her cry for a few moments, thinking it might make
her feel better; but, when she was quieter, she said gently, "I do
not think you are looking at this quite in the right way, dear
Maggie."
"How, grandmamma?" asked Maggie, wiping her eyes.
"To look at it as a punishment, dear. I know this is a trial for
you, indeed it seems to you now like a great hardship, though I trust
you will learn to feel differently about it. But God does not always
send trials as punishments."
"What then, grandmamma?"
"Well, He may send troubles to us to work out some good purpose of
His own that we cannot know of, or they may even be sent as
blessings, though we do not see it at the time."
"Oh," said Maggie, "I s'pose that was what Aunt Helen meant the other
day when she talked about 'blessings in disguise.'"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Stanton; "but do you know what disguise means,
Maggie?"
"Yes'm," said Maggie. "It means to dress yourself up so that nobody
would know you; and if my going to school is a blessing, I think it
is a very disguised one _indeed_."
Mrs. Stanton could not help smiling a little, though she was sorry to
hear Maggie's rebellions tone.
"Grandmamma," said Bessie, "do you think our Father has a purpose in
having Maggie go to school?"
"Yes, dear. We may always be sure that whatever He orders for us is
for some wise and holy purpose of His own. It may be He sees this
will be good for Maggie, or He may have some work for her to do for
Him."
"But I know I could work and study a great deal better at home with
my own mamma and my own Bessie, than I could in a hateful school with
a cross, ugly teacher," said Maggie.
"O Maggie!" said Bessie, "Miss Ashton is not ugly. Don't you know we
thought she looked so nice and pleasant? And I don't believe she is
cross either, or mamma would not let you go to her."
"No," said grandmamma: "Miss Ashton is neither cross nor ugly; but
Maggie is looking at her and at her school through the spectacles of
discontent, which hide all that is good, and make all that is bad
appear far, far worse than the reality. Take them off, Maggie, and
look at things with your own honest, cheerful, eyes. It may be that
the great Teacher above has some lesson for you to learn that you do
not know of--some special work for you to do for Him."
"I don't see how a little girl like me could do any work for Him in
school, except to learn my lessons well," said Maggie, "and I could
do that at home."
"When you were at Chalecoo last summer, did not the Lord Jesus give
you work to do for Him, such as you had no thought of?"
"Yes," said Maggie, softened at once; "and it was a very happy work;
and I am very glad He made us of a heart to do it."
"And if you ask Him, darling, He will always give you a heart to do
the work He puts in your way," said grandmamma.
"But, grandmamma," said Maggie, "how could I find work for Him in
school? Miss Ashton would not have children like Lem and Dolly in
her class."
"No," answered Mrs. Stanton. "The children you will meet there are
all probably more or less well taught; but you may still find
something to do for Jesus. But the work which He gives us is not
always that which we have chosen or planned for ourselves. It may be
that your task will be only that of which you have just spoken--to
learn your lessons well, to be obedient and respectful to Miss
Ashton, gentle and patient with your schoolmates; yet all may be done
for the love of Jesus, and to His glory and praise. There is a
lovely hymn which asks that one may be made more careful to please
God perfectly than to serve Him much. That means that it is far more
pleasing to Him to have us take up cheerfully and gratefully the
small duty which lies straight before us, than it is to have us pass
that by while we search for some more grand task, or self-sacrifice,
which we may choose to think is His work. I can tell you a story of
a great mistake which I made in that way once. Would you like to
hear it?"
The children both assented eagerly, and settled themselves
comfortably to listen to grandmamma's story.