_THE BROKEN CLOCK._
It was recess; and Bessie stood at the back schoolroom window,
watching her brothers and the rest of Mr. Peters' boys at play. Four
of the older girls were in the room, two of them standing by the fire
talking; while the others, namely Kate Maynard and Fanny Berry, were
at their desks, each preparing a neglected lesson. Their French
master came at half-past twelve, and they were now in a great hurry
to finish the exercises which should have been ready the night before.
"There!" said Kate, throwing down her pen and shutting her
exercise-book with an energetic slap upon the cover, "I am through.
How about you, Fanny?"
Fanny looked up at the little clock which stood upon the mantelpiece,
and shook her head despairingly.
"No," she said, "and I shall not be able to finish. I am not half as
quick as you, Kate. It is twenty minutes past twelve, and old
Gaufrau will be here in ten minutes. Oh, if I had but ten more, I
would do it! He threatened to complain of me to Mrs. Ashton next
time I was not ready for him. It's all the fault of that story-book
you lent me, Julia Grafton: I sat the whole evening reading it, and
quite forgot my exercise."
"Please do not blame me or the book," said Julia. "I did not ask you
to borrow it, nor did the book request to be read, I imagine."
"Do stop talking, and write all you can," said Kate. "What's the
good of wasting more time?"
"If I only had ten minutes more!" moaned Fanny again.
"If the clock were only slow, as it was the other day," said Mary
Merton. "We need not tell Monsieur that it was not right, for he
would never know; for he has no watch of his own, and always goes by
this."
"Tell him it's too fast," said another.
"He'll be sure to suspect something when he sees Fanny scrambling
through her exercise at that rate."
"He's used to see Fan doing that," laughed Julia Grafton, looking at
Fanny, who, with a very distressed face, was writing away as fast as
her pen could move, caring little for the many mistakes she was
making, if she only had the exercise finished and handed in with the
rest, so that she might escape the threatened complaint to Mrs.
Ashton.
Poor Fanny! Indolent and procrastinating, loving her pleasure better
than her duty, she was often in such troubles as this. Still, she
was good-natured and obliging; and her schoolmates pitied and were
fond of her, and were always ready to help her if they could.
"Do some one put the clock back," pleaded Fanny.
"To be sure," said Kate. "Why did not we think of that before?
Monsieur will be nicely taken in."
"But suppose Mrs. Ashton finds it out?" said Julia.
"Mrs. Ashton will not suspect anything," said Mary, as Kate laid her
hand upon the clock. "It has been wrong once: why not again?"
"Take care you do not injure it," said Julia uneasily. "I know Mr.
Ashton gave that clock to his wife only a few days before he died.
It was the last thing he ever gave her, and he placed it there on the
mantelpiece; for which reason she leaves it here, though I rather
wonder at her doing so."
While the others were speaking, Kate Maynard had taken down the
clock; and Mary Merton opened it, and moved back the hands. As Kate
went to replace it upon the mantelpiece, the voice of Mrs. Ashton
speaking to the French professor, and his in reply, were heard in the
hall. In her haste, Kate did not put the clock far enough back upon
the shelf; it slipped between that and her hand, and fell upon the
hearth. Strange to say, it did not fly in pieces, as all the girls
expected would be the case; not even the glass over the face was
cracked, for the clock fell upon its side, and as the terrified Kate
raised it, it appeared unhurt. The next moment, however, as she put
it in its proper place, a whirring sound was heard, then a sharp,
short click, and the hands stood still.
Mrs. Ashton and Monsieur Gaufrau, hearing nothing of what was going
on within, still stood talking in the hall; and the girls, including
Fanny, who had quite forgotten her lesson, stood looking from one to
another in guilty and alarmed silence.
Mary Merton was the first to break it.
"Thank fortune!" she exclaimed. "The thing does not look damaged;
and no one need know how it happened, if we all keep our own secret.
Oh, there's Bessie Bradford!" and Mary looked more frightened than
she had done before, as she fixed her eyes on the child's shocked and
astonished face; for she, as well as the others, had a feeling that
no deceit or concealment was to be looked for from Bessie.
Until that moment, they had all forgotten the presence of the little
girl, who now stood silent on the window-seat, her face turned
towards the uneasy group, looking from one to another with an
expression of mingled wonder, grief, and indignation, under which the
most insensible among them felt herself abashed.
"O Mousie!" said Kate Maynard, who generally called Bessie by that
pet name, "I had forgotten that you were there! Remember you are not
to say a word. If you do, I will never forgive you."
There was no time for more, for the professor's step was heard
approaching; and, as the girls suddenly scattered to different parts
of the room, he opened the door and came in.
"Ah!" he said in French, after bidding them good morning and looking
at the clock, "I see I am too early, and I am glad; for I have left
at Mr. Peters' a book which I shall need, and I have yet time to
return for it. Your pardon, young ladies." Then as he turned to go,
and caught sight of Bessie, he smiled and came towards her. She was
a great favourite with him, although she was not one of his scholars;
for he had now and then met her in this room, and her polite and
ladylike little ways were very pleasing to the ceremonious old
Frenchman, who always made a point of bowing to her with his very
best grace, which Bessie would return by giving him her mite of a
hand to shake, and saying prettily, "Bon jour, Monsieur," as her
mamma had taught her.
"Ah!" said Monsieur Gaufrau, changing from his own language to his
broken English, for he knew that Bessie understood only a few words
of the former, "Ah! you look sad, _ma petite_. What have you? you
are trouble. These great demoiselles have tease you? Do not be sad
of that; they do not mean nothing; it is but their joy. They are
good of heart, but have not too much thought. Mademoiselle Maynard,
you cannot make glad once more your little friend? I am of haste;"
and, patting Bessie on the head, he waved his hand politely towards
Kate, as if committing the little child to her care, and hurried away.
Bessie looked after the grey-haired and kind-hearted old gentleman as
he went out and closed the door behind him, and then turned her eyes
on Kate. Was Kate, of whom she had really grown very fond, going to
carry on this deception? She had not time to speak, scarce even to
collect her thoughts; for the next moment the young lady caught her
up in her usual abrupt fashion, and seating her on her desk, placed
herself before her, while the rest gathered hurriedly around.
Bessie knew that a struggle was before her, and somehow she felt that
all these great girls were banded together against her. There was
only time for a little wish, a half-breathed, upward thought; but it
was heard and answered.
"Bessie," said Kate, in a low tone, "you are not to speak of this, or
to let any one suppose that you knew of it, or were in the room. Do
you understand?"
The child looked steadily at her, though her colour rose, and her
breath came quickly, and she had--oh, such a longing to be safely
home at the side of her own dear mamma!
"S'pose some one asks me?" she said.
Kate coloured in her turn, and hesitated.
"Say you don't know anything about it," said Mary Merton. "It is
true enough: you don't. You had nothing to do with the clock."
"But I _know_ about it," answered Bessie; "I saw what did happen to
it, and I heard that noise it made; and I know something pretty much
is the matter with it. Once Fred threw his ball in our nursery, and
it knocked down the clock, and it made just that noise, and was so
spoiled papa had to buy another one. But Fred went right away and
told papa," she added, as a hint to her hearers of the course she
thought they ought to take.
"Telling one's papa is a different thing from telling Mrs. Ashton,"
said Mary. "She will be so furious if she finds out how it happened."
"Ah, that is it!" said Kate: "I would not hesitate a moment to tell
her I had broken the clock; but how can I tell her how it came about?"
"And I shall get into trouble too," said Fanny, in her fretful tones.
"Girls, what shall we do?"
"Do!" repeated Mary Merton. "There is but one thing to do, and that
is to stand by one another. There are only four of us here, and none
of us know anything about it--that is all. As for you, little
tell-tale, if you have a word to say about it, remember that it is
your friend Kate you will get into a peck of trouble."
"I'm not a tell-tale!" said Bessie indignantly, keeping down her
temper with great difficulty. "I'm not a tell-tale; and if you don't
want me to, I won't tell any one the clock is broken, not even my
dear mamma, or my own Maggie. I s'pose I needn't when I didn't do it
myself. But if Mrs. Ashton asks about it, I'll have to tell her."
"Why don't you run quick, and tell her all about it now?" sneered
Mary. "You can get us all nicely punished, if you make a good story
of it. Go, tell-tale, go!"
Bessie made no answer, but watched Kate's face anxiously.
"See here, Bessie," said Fanny: "promise us not to say a word about
it, if Mrs. Ashton asks; and I will dress a beautiful doll for you."
Bessie shook her head resolutely.
"Do you think I'd tell a story for a doll?" she answered; and then,
putting her arms round Kate's neck, she whispered, "I would help you
if I could, Katie; but I couldn't make Jesus sorry even for you; and
you won't do it, dear, will you? Please think about Him, Katie, and
don't tell a wicked story. He will help you to be brave, if you ask
Him."
None of the others heard what she said, but it was easy enough to
guess that she was trying to persuade Kate to do right; and Fanny,
for once roused to energy, exclaimed,--
"You'll _have_ to stand by us, Kate; you can't tell your own share in
the mischief without bringing in the rest, and you've no right to do
it. And as for you, Bessie, if you bring us into any trouble with
your nonsense, we'll keep you out of our room, and have nothing more
to do with you. We won't have a mean little tell-tale here spying
and reporting us."
But this, as well as many other threats and promises, proved of no
avail Bessie could not be persuaded to say that she would tell an
untruth, if she were asked about the clock; and the more steadfast
she was, the more urgent grew the older girls.
"It is so, Bessie," sighed Kate, all her frolicsome spirits quite put
to flight. "It is so; I cannot confess my own share without bringing
in Fanny and Mary; and I don't know that that would be fair, even if
I dared to tell of myself. But I tell you what we will do for you,
if you promise faithfully--and I know you will keep your word--not to
betray us. You are so anxious to have that hospital bed for your
lame Jemmy. Promise to say what we all say, and we will all vote
that you shall have that prize; and I will coax the four girls who
are not here to do the same. They will do it for me."
Bessie knew that this was true, for Kate generally carried things her
own way in her room. "Maggie, of course, will vote for you; so will
Belle and Lily; and so no one else will have a chance, for that will
be more than half the school, and you are sure of the prize. Quick!
speak, Bessie! There is no time lose. Monsieur will be back in a
moment."
"Think of the good you will do the lame boy," said Fanny; "and just
by such a little--well, you can't call it even a 'fib,' for you
_don't_ know much about the clock, you don't understand it, and you
did not see it break. For all you know, it may be all right in a few
moments."
"Then Mrs. Ashton won't ask about it, and I needn't speak," said
Bessie.
"Pshaw! you always come back to the same point," said Mary. "None of
us need speak, if Mrs. Ashton does not ask us, need we?"
"Yes," said Bessie. "Some one ought to speak now."
"And who'd be so mean, I'd like to know?" said Fanny.
Bessie had a feeling that the meanness lay elsewhere: first, in the
deception practised upon the patient and polite old Frenchman; next,
in the concealment of the mischief done from Mrs. Ashton. But she
did not like to speak out all that was in her mind to these girls who
were so much older, and might be supposed to be so much wiser than
herself.
"Will you do this for lame Jemmy?" said Kate. "Make haste and tell
us! There is no doubt of your gaining the prize for him, if we all
promise you our votes, you know."
"You are very wicked and cruel if you do not," said Mary. "How can
you ever look the poor fellow in the face again, and remember that
you refused to give him a chance of being cured? For, if you will
not do this little favour for us, you need not look for the votes
from this room."
"We don't ask you to say what is not true," said Kate: "you have only
to keep silence, if Mrs. Ashton speaks. There is nothing wrong in
that. Indeed, it is only right for you to do so, when you will gain
this great help for your lame friend."
Poor Bessie! It was the first time in all her little life that she
had been even tempted to do or say what was not true; but this was a
sore trial. She had thought so much of lame Jemmy, longed so to earn
the prize for his sake; and now she was sure of it, if she would
but--what?
Act a lie! or, at least, help to cover a shameful deception! Yes, it
was that! She could not hide the truth from her own conscience.
Kate told her that it was right; they were all trying to persuade her
to do wrong, that good might come of it--trying to make her think
that it was really her duty; and, for a moment, it did seem hard to
decide what she ought to do.
But it was only for a moment. Bessie had watched and prayed that she
might not enter into temptation; and she was not suffered to fall.
Her honest, truthful little soul saw it all clearly. Helping Jemmy
was not "God's work," if it led her into sin against Him, Truth
first, before all things: to _speak_ truth, to _act_ truth.
"There!" said Kate, as the child hesitated for that instant; "I
thought you'd be a good child, and do as we wanted you to. She
promises, girls!"
"No," said Bessie, with her colour coming and going, and pressing her
little hands tightly together: "I can't, Miss Kate; not even for lame
Jemmy--not even if you never love me any more, or speak to me again.
It would not be true."
"It is not telling a story, I tell you," said Kate sharply, as she
heard the rest of the class in the hall below, and knew that in
another moment it would be too late.
"But it would be _behaving_ a story," said Bessie, "'cause it would
be letting Mrs. Ashton believe I didn't know about it. I can't see
why it is not just the same; and I know Jesus would be sorry to have
me earn the prize for Jemmy that way."
"Go, then!" said Kate, suddenly lifting the child down from the desk,
and placing her on her feet,--"go, then! you are no pet of mine after
this: I want nothing more to do with you."
"That won't trouble her," said Mary, with a sneer. "A fine pretence
of affection she has made for you, only to serve you in this way,
Kate!"
"Bessie, your nurse is waiting for you," said Miss Laura Jones, who
just then entered the room. "Why, what is the matter?" as she saw
the little one's troubled face, and those of the older girls flushed
and angry.
"The matter is, that here is a mean, hateful little tell-tale," said
Fanny.
"Take care what you do before her, or she will run and tell Mrs.
Ashton," said Mary.
Ah, how hard it was to keep back the angry words that were rising to
her lips; not to tell those great girls what she thought of _them_!
"Why, how is this, my dears?" said Mrs. Ashton, coming in, and
looking round in surprise. "I thought Monsieur Gaufrau was here."
"He did come in, ma'am," said Mary Merton demurely, and with an air
of perfect innocence; "but he had forgotten a book, and thought he
had time to go for it."
Mrs. Ashton looked at the clock, then took out her watch.
"The clock is too slow," she said. "No, it has stopped! That
accounts for his mistake. I must really have it put in order."
Not a word was spoken. Bessie, quite forgetting in her anxiety that
Jane was waiting for her, stood looking from one to another, as Mrs.
Ashton examined the clock, touching it with a kind of reverent
affection, but not one of those who were in the secret would meet the
child's eye.
Maggie came in to see why Bessie did not come; and, feeling as if she
could not part with Kate in such an angry mood, the little girl went
up to her and slipped her hand in hers; but Kate pushed her from her,
and Bessie turned away with a swelling heart.
Suddenly Julia Grafton, who had not spoken while the others were
tempting Bessie, caught the child in her arms as she passed, and,
kissing her warmly, whispered, "You are right, Bessie! I wish I were
as brave as you."