_BESSIE'S PARTY._
"We are going to have a party," said Maggie.
"Who? our mamma?" said Nellie Ransom.
"Why, no," said Maggie: "we, Bessie and I. Next Tuesday is Bessie's
birthday, when she will be seven years old; and mamma said we might
have a party."
"Oh, how lovely!" said Dora Johnson; "and will you invite me, Maggie?"
"Well, yes, we will: 'cause mamma said we might have all the class,"
answered Maggie; "but, Dora, you ought not to _ask_ us to invite you."
"Why not?" said Dora.
"Because it is not polite to ask people to invite you to their
houses. We would _have_ to, even if we did not want you, or else
hurt your feelings by telling you we would rather not have you."
"You need not ask me if you don't want to," said Dora, pouting. "I
don't care for going to your old party!"
"But we do want you, and you would like to come," said Bessie
good-naturedly; "for it is going to be very nice, and we are to have
a magic-lantern."
"Oh, how perfectly lovely!" said Fanny Leroy, clapping her hands. "I
never saw a magic-lantern; I'll be sure to come."
"Now, there's another of you," said Maggie, in rather an aggrieved
tone. "You ought not to say you'll come till you're invited. Bessie
and I are going to send you an invitation all written in a note, and
you must answer it in the same way, and not say you'll come
_before-time_. I'm sorry I told you, if you act this way about it."
"When did you say it was to be?" asked Nellie.
"Next Tuesday," said Maggie: "the first of May. That's Bessie's
birthday."
"And that is the day Miss Ashton's uncle is going to give the
prizes," said Gracie Howard.
"Why, so it is!" said Lily Norris. "What a very 'markable day it
will be for us!"
Here the bell rang, and the young voices were all hushed. But, after
school was opened, the children found that one of the expected
"remarkable" events would not, after all, take place on the first day
of May.
"Children," said Miss Ashton, "a letter came from my uncle this
morning, saying that he had been called out of town on very important
business, and so could not be here on Tuesday to present the prizes.
But on the following Thursday he hopes to be at home, and wishes to
have all the compositions handed to him on the evening of that day,
so that he may read them before Friday, when he will be here. We
shall have no regular school on that day, but a little examination
will take the place of the usual lessons; and you may tell such of
your friends as would like to come that we will be happy to see them."
So the giving of the prizes was to be made quite a little affair.
Some of the children were pleased, and some were not; timid Maggie,
and one or two more who were afflicted with that troublesome shyness,
being among the latter number.
But going to school had really proved of service to Maggie in
conquering her extreme bashfulness, as her friends had hoped; and
though her colour might still come and go, and her voice shake
somewhat if a stranger spoke to her, she could now hold up her head,
and answer as became a well-bred and polite little lady. Nor did she
longer let it stand in the way of offering to do a kind thing for
other people if she had the opportunity; but, when that came to her,
tried to forget herself, and to think only of the help she might be.
For, having the will to cure herself, Maggie had succeeded in her
efforts, and her improvement in this respect was much to her credit.
As for Bessie, she cared little, except for Maggie's sake, whether
there were half a dozen or fifty people present, besides those she
called her "own." She was neither a shy nor a bold child; nor was
she vain. But when she had a thing to do, she did it with a
straightforward simplicity and a dignified, ladylike little manner,
which were both amusing and attractive. If she knew the answer to a
question, and that it was right for her to give it, she could do so
almost as readily before a room full of people, as before one or two;
and this was because she did not think of herself, or what people
were thinking of her, but only if the thing were right, and of the
proper way to do it.
Now I would by no means be understood to say that those little people
who are not troubled with timidity themselves should blame or think
hardly of those who suffer from it. It is a part of some natures,
not of others; and those who are free from it should do all they can
to help and encourage those who are not so. But certain it is that
we can do much ourselves toward conquering this troublesome "little
fox;" and, if my young readers could only know how much more happy as
well as useful they may be when free from his vexatious attacks, I am
sure they would do all they could to bury him out of sight and
hearing.
For herself, Bessie had, as we know, no thought of a prize. From the
older girls, influenced by Kate Maynard, she would not, she believed,
receive a single vote. Kate had never withdrawn that threat; indeed,
she had almost forgotten she had ever made it, and it never occurred
to her that Bessie still expected her to act upon it. The little
girls were divided, each one having her own favourite, whom she
thought the most deserving, and for whom she intended to vote; and
Bessie imagined that the only hope of the hospital bed for lame Jemmy
lay with Belle Powers. For Belle was now so much interested in all
that concerned Maggie and Bessie, that she was almost as anxious as
they were to gain it for him; and she had been to Riverside with her
young friends, and seen the lame boy, so that she took an interest in
him on his own account also.
Lily Norris, too, had promised that if this prize came to her, she
would give it to Jemmy; but there was small chance of that. Lily was
a roguish, mischievous little thing, and a great chatterbox; and it
would not do to tell how often she had broken the rules by talking
and laughing aloud at forbidden times, throwing paper-balls, making
faces, and so forth. No, no, _Lily_ would never have the prize for
being the best child in the school.
But in spite of her half-jealousy of Gracie Howard, and her
acknowledgment to her mother that she might possibly earn the
composition prize, Bessie had little doubt in her own mind that it
would fall to Maggie, and thought it rather unreasonable in any one
to expect to carry it away from her. Her own Maggie, who "made up"
such delightful stories and plays, and who had written the "Complete
Family," that wonderful book for which Uncle Ruthven had paid such a
price, could scarcely fail to be the successful one here; and Bessie
had little fear on that score. But she knew that Maggie's pleasure
would be for the moment half destroyed if she were obliged to receive
the prize in the presence of strangers; and she turned to her sister
with a sympathising glance, which was met with a look of the utmost
dismay from Maggie.
But there was one young heart there which was troubled with no such
painful misgivings as poor Maggie's. A vain and ambitious little
heart it was, and rather gloried in the opportunity of displaying its
expected triumphs before a number of admiring eyes.
Gracie Howard was a very clever child, and none knew this better than
herself. It had been often said in her hearing, not by her father
and mother,--for they were too wise to do such a thing,--but by
foolish people who imagined they would please her parents by saying
so, and had no thought of the harm they might be doing the child.
But Mr. and Mrs. Howard would have been far better satisfied to have
their little daughter only half as clever, and to see her modest,
humble, and free from the vanity which was spoiling all the finer
traits of her character. Not that Gracie was a bad child by any
means; on the contrary, she was, in many respects, a very sweet
little girl. But ah, that ugly weed of self-conceit! how many fair
plants and precious seeds it chokes up and keeps out of sight!
Mr. and Mrs. Howard had hoped that by sending her to school, where
she would be thrown with other children, this fault of Gracie's might
be checked. But it had only grown upon her, as they saw with sorrow.
Miss Ashton had a bright set of little girls in her class, but Gracie
was certainly the brightest and quickest among them; and she very
soon became aware of this. She had had more perfect lessons than any
one of the others--that they all knew; and Gracie herself had not the
least doubt that she would also have the best composition, and so
gain both these prizes. She was not at all disturbed by the fact
that all the other children, with whom gentle and modest Maggie was
much more of a favourite than Gracie, declared their belief and hope
that the former would be successful. She took it all good-naturedly,
too well pleased with herself and her own performances to be vexed at
anything they could say; and only answering, with a self-satisfied
shake of the head, that they would "see who was the smartest when the
day came."
She was really fond of Maggie Bradford, and felt sorry for the
disappointment she thought was in store for her, and would have been
glad if two composition prizes had been offered, so that her little
companion might have one, provided that the _first_ came to herself.
Her father and mother would have been better pleased that she should
have had none, and so learned that others could do as well and better
than herself.
The class had a good deal to talk about that day, as soon as school
was over. The arrangements for the prize-day and Bessie's party
occasioned a good deal of chattering. They were all welcome to talk
of the latter as much as they pleased, and to say how delightful it
would be, and how much they expected to enjoy themselves; only, on no
account was any one to say she was coming before she received her
written invitation, and answered it in form. Maggie was very
particular on that point.
The invitations were all sent and accepted in the most ceremonious
manner, and quite to Maggie's satisfaction, on the following day,
which was Saturday.
Even Belle Powers, who came to spend the day with Maggie and Bessie,
received her note the moment she entered the house, and was requested
to answer it before they began to play, which she did on a sheet of
Bessie's stamped paper. To be sure, a slight difficulty arose from
the fact that the initials, B.R.B., did not stand well for Belle
Powers; but that was speedily remedied by Maggie, who, with her usual
readiness for overcoming such obstacles, suggested that they might
for once be supposed to stand for "Beloved, Reasonable Belle;" an
idea which met with the highest approbation from the other children.
Nor was it of the slightest consequence that Maggie was herself
obliged to dictate the words in which the invitation was to be
accepted. It was enough that it was accepted; and, this important
business being satisfactorily concluded, they all went happily to
their play.
Tuesday afternoon came, bringing with it the merry, happy party to
keep Bessie's birthday. Besides her young classmates, there were
half a dozen other little ones; the family from Riverside and from
grandmamma's; Mr. Hall and Mr. Powers; and last and least, but by no
means the person of smallest importance, Mrs. Rush's bright,
three-months-old baby, May Bessie, the "subject" of Maggie's famous
composition, and our Bessie's particular pet and darling.
Bessie had a fancy--no one could tell how it had arisen--that the
baby's pretty second name had been given for her. Perhaps if it had
been necessary to undeceive her, young Mrs. Stanton might have laid
claim to the honour; but, seeing the child's satisfaction in the
idea, no one had the heart to do so. It gave her a special interest
in the baby, and Mrs. Bradford and Colonel Rush were rather glad that
it should be so, for they had feared that Bessie might think the
colonel would care less for her, now that he had a little daughter of
his own to pet and love.
But no shade of that slight feeling of jealousy with which Bessie had
sometimes to do battle seemed to have been called forth by this new
claimant on the hearts of her friends. Her delight in it was pure
and unselfish; and it was for her and Maggie a fresh source of
pleasure whenever they visited Colonel and Mrs. Rush.
And Maggie, partly to please Bessie, partly "for a compliment to
Uncle Horace and Aunt May," had discarded all other subjects of
composition, and taken this dear baby; telling how a little angel had
wandered down from heaven to earth to see if it could be of any use
there, and, falling in with "a brave, lame soldier" and his wife,
concluded that it could not do better than stay and make them happy;
"because they deserved to have a little bit of heaven in their home,"
wrote Maggie.
"A little bit of heaven" the baby had certainly brought with it, as
the darlings usually do; and had Aunt May needed any further reward
than she had already received for the loving teachings she had
bestowed on her young Sunday scholars, she would have found it in the
joy which they took in her joy, and in this pretty, simple story of
Maggie's, which she laughed over and cried over, and then privately
copied, putting the copy carefully away with some other small
treasures which were very dear.
The birthday party could not be expected to go off well, unless that
very considerate "little angel" took part in it; and so Aunt May had
been coaxed to let her come for a short time. And certainly no young
lady ever received a greater share of attention at her first party
than did this little queen, who took it all in the most dignified
manner, and as if it were a thing to which she was quite accustomed.
May Bessie had just been carried away by her nurse, when Gracie
Howard came in, carrying in one hand a lovely bouquet, in the other a
roll of paper neatly tied with a scarlet ribbon. The former she
presented to Bessie; and the other children, supposing the latter to
be some pretty picture, expected to see that placed in the same hands.
But that did not follow; and presently, when Maggie asked, "What
would you all like to play first?" Gracie untied the ribbon, and
said,--
"I've brought my prize composition, and I'll read it aloud. Don't
you want to hear it?"
"No," said Dora Johnson and Mamie Stone; "we don't."
"Oh, but you _must_!" said Gracie, unrolling her paper and jumping
upon a chair.
"Proudy! Proudy!" said Fanny Leroy; "you are always wanting to show
off your own compositions."
"Before I'd think so much of myself!" cried another. But Gracie,
nothing daunted, turned to Bessie and said,--
"You want to hear it, don't you, Bessie? and it's your party."
"No," said Bessie, her politeness struggling with her truthfulness
and resentment at Gracie's vanity, "I don't _want_ to hear it; but
I'll let you read it, if you are so very anxious."
This was permission enough for Gracie; and she read aloud the
composition with an air and tone which seemed to say, "There! do
better than that if you can!"
Maggie and Bessie listened, feeling bound to do so, as Gracie was
company; and, moreover, they both had a strong desire to judge for
themselves if her composition was likely to prove the best. Two or
three of the other little girls remained also from curiosity; but the
most of them walked away in great disgust at Gracie's love of
"showing off."
Several of the grown people were at the other end of the room, and
Gracie raised her voice that they might also have the benefit of her
performance; but, to her great mortification, not one of them seemed
to pay the slightest attention. The truth was, they all heard well
enough, but none of them chose to gratify the conceited little puss
by letting her suppose they were listening.
Maggie's countenance fell as Gracie went on, but Bessie's brightened;
and, at the close, she drew a long breath of satisfaction.
"There!" said Gracie triumphantly; "shan't I have the prize for that?"
"No," said Bessie, "I don't believe you will. It is very nice,
Gracie, but my Maggie's is a great deal better--oh yes, a _great
deal_ better! It is beautiful! I'm sorry for you, if you're
disappointed; but I know hers is the best, and I'm very glad for
Maggie."
"You'd better not be so sure I'll be disappointed," said Gracie.
Bessie did not answer; but the very satisfied look with which she
turned to her sister provoked Gracie.
"You think Maggie is so great!" she said.
"Yes, I _do_," answered Bessie defiantly.
"And I'd rather think my sister great than think myself great," said
Nellie Ransom.
Here Mrs. Bradford, hearing that the young voices were not very
good-natured in their tones, came to prevent a quarrel; and Annie
Stanton, following, proposed a game of hide-and-seek. It was readily
agreed to, and peace was restored.
The game went on for some time with great success, and at last it
came to Bessie's turn to be hidden. Sending the seekers to their
gathering place in the dining-room, Aunt Annie took her to the
library, and hid her snugly away in a corner behind a tall pedestal,
drawing the window-curtain about it so as to conceal her still
further.
As Bessie lay there, listening to the voices of the other children as
they wandered, now nearer, now farther off, in their search for her,
her Uncle Ruthven and Colonel Rush came into the library, and placed
themselves by the window near which she lay hidden.
"I'm here in the corner, Uncle Ruthven; but please don't take any
notice, for fear the other children know," she whispered, but so
softly that neither of the gentlemen heard her, and went on talking
without knowing who was near them.
"That little Howard is an uncommonly clever child," said Mr. Stanton
presently. "That composition is quite beyond her years."
"H'm!" said the colonel; "conceited little monkey!"
"Yes," said Mr. Stanton; "it is really painful to see an otherwise
pleasant child so pert and forward."
"It is a great pity," said the colonel, "a great pity. I hope her
self-conceit may not be encouraged by receiving the prize."
"I have no doubt that it will fall to her," said Uncle Ruthven. "You
must acknowledge that, pretty as our Maggie's composition is, this of
Gracie's goes before it in all those particulars which would be
likely to take a prize."
"Yes," answered Colonel Rush reluctantly, "I suppose it does. I do
not know that I should be an unprejudiced judge in this matter, owing
to my special interest in Maggie's subject," he added, laughing; "and
the simplicity and poetry of her little story have gone very close to
my heart. But, apart from this, I do not think it will be well for
Gracie to gain the prize; though I fear with you that she will be the
successful candidate."
Bessie did not know what "candidate" meant; but she understood very
well that her uncle and the colonel thought that Gracie would gain
the prize; and who could be better judges than they?
She sat motionless with grief and amazement, forgetting her game,
forgetting everything but Maggie's disappointment and her own. She
did not hear anything more that was said by the two gentlemen; she
did not notice when Uncle Ruthven opened the window, and they both
stepped out upon the piazza; and when, a moment later, Lily Norris
drew aside the curtain, and joyfully exclaimed, "Here she is!" Bessie
felt almost angry that she was forced to come forth from her
hiding-place.
She was not cross, however; she did not even let the tears find way;
but her pleasure in her birthday party was quite gone. Not even that
wonderful magic-lantern, which was displayed as soon as it was dark,
to the great delight of the other children, could give her any
satisfaction; and it was impossible to look at the troubled little
face without seeing that something had happened greatly to disturb
her.
But she could not be persuaded to say what ailed her, till all the
young guests had gone, and mamma had taken her up-stairs, when she
repeated, as nearly as she could, what her uncle and Colonel Bush had
said.
Maggie, too, was dismayed at this sudden downfall of her hopes; for
she agreed with Bessie that Uncle Ruthven and the colonel must know;
and their mother, who had also heard Gracie's composition, could not
encourage them by giving a contrary opinion.
"I must really say, dear Maggie," she said, "that I would rather have
yours than Gracie's; but I think that hers is almost sure to be the
successful one."
"And all Maggie's pains are lost," said Bessie mournfully.
"Not at all, dear. Maggie has done all she could be asked to do, her
very best; and it is no fault of hers if another has in some respects
done better. And her pains are by no means thrown away, if it were
only for the pleasure her story has given to our dear Colonel and
Mrs. Bush."
"Then I'm glad I took them," said Maggie; "but oh, mamma!" and she
ended with a long sigh.
"So am I," said Bessie; "and I know the colonel thinks your
composition is splendid, Maggie; and he would rather you should have
the prize."
"I was afraid when I heard Gracie read hers," said Maggie. "It
sounded so much more grown-up-y than mine. Mamma, did it make you
feel sorry, too?"
"No, darling. I will tell you what I felt: that I would rather have
my own Maggie as she is, even without the slightest hope of a prize,
than to see her vain and forward, and winning the richest of earthly
rewards."