_THE AWARD._
Gracie was not at school that morning, for the child had actually
cried herself sick on the previous day; but when Maggie gave her own
composition to Miss Ashton to be placed in her uncle's hands, she
gave Gracie's with it, as she knew her little friend would wish.
"And where was it found, dear?" asked Miss Ashton, who stood leaning
against the window of the back room with her arm about Belle Powers'
waist; while most of the girls, large and small, were gathered about
her, enjoying the sweet spring air which came in through the open
sash.
How pleasant the old garden looked this bright May morning, with the
early leaves just budding forth, its peach-trees covered with
delicate pink blossoms, its crocuses, violets, and tulips all in full
bloom, the pigeons dressing their feathers on the stone wall, the
guinea hens and two peacocks strutting about, and the sparrows and
other small birds twittering and hopping among the branches!
Maggie told where and how she had found the paper.
"And were you not put out when you found it?" said Kate Maynard
thoughtlessly.
Maggie looked up into the laughing face, and answered candidly, "Yes,
Miss Kate, I was; but I think I'm over that now."
"Maggie was very good indeed about it, Miss Kate," said Bessie
quickly. "Nobody could be better. Mamma was very much pleased with
her."
"Maggie is just a great deal _too_ good," said Dora Johnson. "She
ought to have left it in the drawer, and not said a word about it.
_I_ would have, and good enough for that proudy."
"Dora," said Miss Ashton, "I do not think you would have done a thing
like that, would you, my dear?"
"Well'm," said Dora, "if it had been for myself, maybe I wouldn't;
but if I had known Gracie's composition was there, I wouldn't have
told her to make a chance against Maggie."
"I wouldn't either," said Bella. "Let's throw it away again, and not
tell Gracie;" and, quick and impulsive as she always was, she
snatched the unlucky paper from Miss Ashton's hand, and tossed it
with all her little strength out of the window.
What would Gracie have said to see her much-thought-of composition so
scornfully handled? But it did not come to much further harm.
Falling upon the roof of the piazza below, it only rolled down to the
edge and lay there.
"No, no, little Belle," said Miss Ashton, speaking in the gentle,
excusing tone which all, teachers and scholars, used to the
motherless child of an over-indulgent, rather spoiling father. "No,
no, little Belle: that is naughty. You would not be unfair to Gracie
even for your favourite Maggie, would you?"
"Yes'm," said Belle decidedly; "I would. Maggie is the best."
"But it is who has the best composition, not who is the best child,"
said Miss Ashton. "And we are not the judges of that; all must have
the same chance."
"I wish I were the judges," said Belle, regardless of grammar; "and I
would give prizes for everything, and all to Maggie and Bessie; but
only one for Miss Ashton," and she patted affectionately the hand
about her waist. "Anyhow, Gracie can't get that now. When it rains,
it will be all spoiled."
The girls laughed at the satisfied tone and nod of the head which
accompanied these words; but Miss Ashton said, "Oh no, Belle! I
shall send Marcia out to pick it up. We must all be just to one
another; must we not, Bessie?" and she smiled into the earnest eyes
which were looking up into hers, though she had no idea of the
struggle which her truthful little scholar had gone through before
she could make up her mind that, justice to Gracie was not something
very like injustice to her own dear Maggie.
"Well," said Kate, laughing and rubbing Maggie's cheeks between her
hands till they were even rosier than was natural to them, "if the
composition prize _were_ to go by favour, we all know who would have
it; do we not, Maggie?"
Yes, this was so; and Gracie, really a pleasant, affectionate child,
had arrayed all her schoolmates against her by her self-conceit and
vanity, till not one of them was ready to be pleased at the
possibility of her gaining the prize.
She lay upon the sofa that afternoon, recovering from the headache
into which she had cried herself. She still looked as if she felt
very wretchedly both in mind and body, and lay idly playing with the
tassels of the sofa-cushions, thinking, thinking of her lost
treasure. Her father sat by the table, writing; her mother by the
window, playing with her little brother.
"Why," said Mrs. Howard, looking out of the window to see what had
called forth such a delighted exclamation from Charlie, "here are
Maggie and Bessie with their nurse. Coming to see why you have not
been to school, I suppose, Gracie."
"I don't want to see them, and I _won't_, now!" said Gracie
pettishly, flouncing herself around. "I know they've come to let me
see how glad they are about to-morrow."
"Gracie," said her father sternly, "I will have no more of this."
Then, more gently, he added, "I do not know you, my daughter, in such
a mood as this. You are not only destroying your own comfort and
that of every one about you, but you are allowing your disappointed
vanity to make you unjust and unkind to your little friends. I wish
you to see Maggie and Bessie, and to receive them as kindly and
politely as you would have done a few days since, before this wicked
jealousy took possession of you."
Gracie was startled, for she was not accustomed to hear her father
speak in this way; indeed, she did not often deserve it, and she was
still crying when Maggie and Bessie came in.
"Poor Gracie!" said Bessie, as soon as she and her sister had spoken
to Mr. and Mrs. Howard; "we were 'fraid you were sick when you didn't
come to school, so we asked mamma to let us come and see you, for we
have some very good news for you."
"What?" said Gracie, looking and speaking as if no news would ever be
good again to her.
"Your composition is found," said Maggie.
"Where is it?" asked Gracie, starting to her feet.
"I s'pose Mr. Ashton has it now," answered Maggie. "I gave it to
Miss Ashton when I found you were not at school, 'cause they all had
to be handed to her uncle this afternoon; and I thought that was what
you would want me to do."
Gracie did not need to meet her father's or mother's accusing eye to
feel how causeless her unjust suspicions had been. Delight at the
recovery of the lost paper was almost overcome by self-reproach and
shame; and her head sank, while a choking feeling in her throat kept
her from speaking her thoughts.
"Where was it found, dear child?" asked Mr. Howard; and Maggie once
more repeated the story.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, so sorry!" said Gracie, throwing an arm about the
neck of each one of her little schoolmates.
"So sorry for what? 'cause your composition is found?" asked the
wondering Bessie.
"No; because I was so naughty and ugly and hateful, and said such
mean things to you and about you," said Gracie, more repentant than
she could find words to tell.
"Oh, never mind now," said Maggie, with sweet forgivingness. "You
wouldn't have said them if you hadn't been so disappointed."
"And, Gracie," said Bessie, "we couldn't help feeling a little glad,
though we were sorry for you. I heard papa tell mamma it was only
human nature, and I s'pose it's to be 'spected you'd have a little
human nature too."
"What is human nature, Bessie?" asked Mr. Howard.
Bessie stood thoughtful a moment, and then answered,--
"I'm not very sure, sir; but I think it means temper and selfishness
and other naughty things that Jesus don't like."[1]
[1] A fact.
Mr. Howard smiled.
"Isn't that right, sir?" asked Bessie, rather anxiously.
"Just about right, dear child," answered the gentleman. "Human
nature is pretty much made up of such things."
"But then Jesus will help us with it, if we go to to Him," said the
child softly to herself, thinking of the battle she had fought with
her own sinful nature, and the victory she had won through the aid of
the Captain she had chosen.
The good news about her composition did much toward helping on
Gracie's recovery; and before Maggie and Bessie went away, she was
quite herself once more, and talking cheerily to them about
to-morrow's expected events.
Mrs. Ashton's schoolrooms were a pretty sight the next morning, for
scarcely a girl in either class but had brought some flowers as a
gift to her teacher, and they were all set forth to deck the rooms.
The girls were all in white, the elder ones with pink ribbons, the
little children with blue to mark their classes; though there was not
much need of this, for the difference in size would have done that
readily enough. But it was a fancy of some of the girls, and as it
put them all in a sort of uniform, and made the rooms look gay, it
was just as well. But the bright young faces, full of pleasure and
good-humour, were the greatest attraction there, and so thought Miss
Ashton as one after another appeared.
The girls all came about two o'clock, though their friends were not
expected till half an hour later.
"Did you ever see a lovelier day?" said Kate Maynard, coming in with
her hands full of lilies of the valley, the sight of which called
forth many an admiring "oh!" and "ah!" from the rest.
"Lovely!" said Julia Grafton; "it is a real genuine poet May-day. No
make-believe spring about this."
"Oh," said Kate, "we ought to have chosen a May Queen, and crowned
her. Why did we not think of it before? Well, it is not too late
now: let us do it, and I will make a crown of these lilies."
The proposal met with general approval.
"Whom shall we choose?" said Fanny Leroy.
"One of the little ones, of course," said Kate, looking round upon
the pleased group of the smaller children who gathered about her to
watch the skilful fingers which were already at work upon the wreath
of lilies.
Belle clapped her hands.
"Maggie, Maggie! let's have Maggie!" she said. "She's the
best-deserving for being so good about Gracie's composition."
"Yes, Maggie," said Gracie, who, feeling sure that she would herself
carry off what she considered the greatest honour of the day, was
glad to have her little friend obtain a lower one. "Let her be May
Queen."
The other children readily agreed, for Maggie's sweet-tempered and
obliging ways had made her a favourite with all the school. She was
not a little pleased; but, when Kate had completed the wreath, her
bashfulness took alarm at the idea of wearing it before all the
ladies and gentlemen, and so exciting notice she might otherwise
escape. It required a good deal of coaxing from all, and some
pretence of hurt feeling on Kate's part, before she could be induced
to put it on; but, after a time, she forgot the honours that had been
forced upon her in the other claims upon her attention.
Only once was she a little disturbed, after they were all in their
places, and their friends had arrived. This was when Bessie, seeing
her mother's eyes fixed with some surprise upon Maggie, thought
herself called upon for an explanation. Placing a hand upon either
side of her mouth, and speaking between them, she said, in a loud
whisper which reached the ears of every one in both rooms, as well as
the one for whom it was intended,--
"She's May Queen, mamma. The girls made her it. Don't she look
lovely?"
A smile passed around the room, and down went her majesty's head in a
style very unbefitting one which wore a crown.
But now all were ready, and the examination began. There is no need
to say much about that, save that it was not long, and, as Mr. Ashton
said, did credit to both teachers and scholars. Next, Mr. Ashton
made a speech, which the children liked all the better because it,
too, was short; and then came the grand business of the day, the
distribution of the prizes.
In the first class, that for composition was bestowed upon Kate
Maynard; that for perfect lessons, upon Julia Grafton.
"Now for our little friends here," said Mr. Ashton, turning to the
younger children. "The greatest number of perfect lessons has been
recited by Miss Gracie Howard. She stands four ahead of any other in
her class; therefore she is justly entitled to the prize;" and he
held towards Gracie a box containing a prettily bound set of those
little library volumes so dear to the eyes and hearts of children.
She rose and came forward to receive it with a self-satisfied air,
which said, as plainly as could be without words, "Only look at me!
Am I not a wonderful child? Do you not envy my father and mother?"
But, in spite of their gratification at her success, her father and
mother did not feel that they were to be envied just then. It was
all spoiled by the little toss of the head, the look which swept the
room seeking for admiration, and the conceited air which were the
outward signs of Gracie's intense vanity; and her mother thought she
would far rather see her as shy and shrinking as Maggie Bradford.
Gracie courtesied when Mr. Ashton placed the books in her hand; and
then stood still as if waiting--for what? So confident did she feel
that the gentleman would, the next moment, call her name again, and
bestow upon her the yet more coveted composition prize--that
beautiful little rosewood writing-desk--that it did not seem worth
while to go back to her seat; and she actually remained waiting for
it, till recalled to herself by Miss Ashton's "Gracie!" and the
motion of her teacher's hand directing her to take her place.
"With regard to the compositions written by this younger class,"
continued Mr. Ashton, "I must say that they are all very well done,
remarkably so for such little girls, and show great pains taken both
by the teacher and the taught. Three of them are so nearly equal in
merit, that I found some difficulty in judging between them."
_Three_! Maggie's must be one; Gracie's another; but whose could the
third be? The children looked from one to another in surprise.
"The one called 'The Angel's Wanderings,'" said Mr. Ashton, "contains
a great deal of poetry and originality;"--some of the little ones
wondered what that long word meant, and the royal eyes peeped up from
under the royal eyelashes, half-shyly, half-delighted--oh, was it
really coming to her?--"but the other two of which I have spoken
excel it in some respects. These are 'Christmas Holidays' and 'A
Sunday Walk;' and this last, written by Miss Nellie Ransom, I have
decided on the whole to be the most worthy of the prize. The
neatness and care with which this paper has been copied and presented
have gone some way in fixing a choice which was somewhat difficult.
Miss Nellie Ransom, my dear."
Nellie Ransom! studious, painstaking, but not remarkably clever
Nellie, whom not one in the school had ever thought of as the winner
of the prize. Even Miss Ashton was rather surprised, though she knew
better what Nellie could do than any of her schoolmates did; but no
one was more astonished than the modest little girl herself. Mr.
Ashton repeated her name more than once, while she sat still in mute
amazement; and, even then, she had to be urged forward by the little
girls on either side of her.
"Don't you hear, Nellie? Go, Nellie. The prize is for you; go take
it, Nellie," was whispered around her before she could collect
herself sufficiently to go up and receive the desk from Mr. Ashton's
hands.
To describe Gracie's astonishment and indignation would be quite
impossible. The pretty reward she had already won had no longer any
charm in her eyes, since that she had regarded as her own was lost to
her. And after all her boasting! Tears of mortification and
disappointment welled up to her eyes, and would not be kept back; and
an angry sob, and a murmur of "It's not fair; mine was the best!"
broke from her.
"Now," said Mr. Ashton, "we are to bestow what I consider the first
prize of the day. You all know what that is; this paper which will
give to her who wins it by the choice of her schoolmates, the power
of doing good to some crippled child. This choice, I trust, will be
made fairly and honestly, without partiality. I want it given to the
young lady whom you all feel most truly deserves it, though she may
not perhaps be the one for whom you care most. All you little ones
understand me, do you not? Now, will each one write upon a slip of
paper the name of the girl to whom her vote is given, and we will see
who has the greatest number."
Twenty heads were presently bent over as many slips of paper; but
directly Bessie rose to her feet and stood looking at Miss Ashton as
if she wished permission to speak.
"Well, Bessie, what is it?" asked the young lady, wondering what was
coming now, as she saw the grave, earnest face of the little girl.
"Miss Ashton," said Bessie, "I really do think my Maggie is the best,
but I'm 'fraid I do feel _partialitied_ to her. I couldn't help it,
you know. Does it make any difference about my voting for her?"
Miss Ashton smiled, and looked at her uncle, who smiled also, and
answered for her.
"None at all, little one. If you really think your Maggie deserves
the prize, vote for her, by all means. I'll answer for it that your
love for her makes her none the less worthy."
"Thank you, sir," answered Bessie demurely; and she sat down again,
and, with great satisfaction, wrote Maggie's name in the largest
possible letters.
The business of writing the names did not take long, for every girl
had long since made up her mind for whom she should vote. Belle
Powers was sent to collect the slips of paper, and brought them to
Mr. Ashton, who, with his niece, looked over them.
"There does not seem to be much difference of opinion," he said,
smiling again. "One for Maggie Bradford, four for Belle Powers, and
fifteen for Bessie Bradford. My little girl, the hospital bed is
yours, to give to whom you will. If you know of any child to whom it
will be a help and comfort, you have also the satisfaction of knowing
that you have gained it for him by your own good conduct, and the
love and approbation of your schoolmates."
If Nellie had been surprised, Bessie was certainly no less so. She
could scarcely believe her own ears. The hospital bed her own, to
give to lame Jemmy! It seemed too good to be true. She had had a
strong hope that dear little Belle would gain it; and Belle, as you
know, had promised that Jemmy should have it, if it fell to her; but
that she, Bessie, should be the chosen one, and that by fifteen
votes!--she could not understand it.
With a flush upon her cheek, but still with a quiet, simple dignity
very different from Gracie's air of supreme self-satisfaction, she
rose and went forward to Mr. Ashton.
"My dear little girl," said the gentleman, looking down kindly upon
her, "from what I have heard, I believe that the choice of your
schoolmates has been justly made. You have looked only to the honour
of God, and tried most earnestly to 'do the thing that is right;' and
God has said 'Them that honour me, I will honour.' May He bless you,
and keep you always in His own way."
Bessie took the folded paper he held out to her and answered, "Thank
you very much, sir, and lame Jemmy will thank you very much too. He
is a very good, patient boy."
"I daresay," replied Mr. Ashton; "but he has to thank you, not me."
Bessie gave him another grateful glance, and turned to go back to her
seat; but as she did so she caught Kate Maynard's roguish eyes fixed
upon her, their mischief softened by an expression of tender pride
and congratulation, which told her that the young lady was nearly as
well pleased as herself.
"O Katie!" she exclaimed, standing where she was, and forgetting for
the moment that every one in the room was watching her; then turning
towards her mother, and meeting her dear look of loving sympathy, all
that was in her little heart proved too much for her, and, dropping
the paper, she ran swiftly across the room, and buried her head in
mamma's lap. How much there was in that "O Katie!" perhaps Kate
herself only knew; and, although she joined in the smile which passed
around, the laughing eyes were suddenly dimmed, and her hand went up
to dash away one or two very suspicious-looking drops.
This last little performance on Bessie's part was not in the
programme, and rather out of rule, to be sure; but, as the exercises
of the day were now over, it did not so much matter.
Mamma's gentle soothing soon calmed her over-excitement, and there
was Maggie, with her arms about her neck, whispering, "Bessie, I
don't mind a bit about the composition prize now. I'd rather than
anything that you would have this. And I'm so glad for lame Jemmy."
"Yes," said Bessie; "it was so good of the girls."
"No, it wasn't," said Belle, who was holding fast to her father's
hand, and jumping up and down in an ecstasy of delight at Bessie's
success; "no, it wasn't. They couldn't help it, not if they wrote
the truf, and Mrs. Ashton said they must. And, Bessie, do you know,
the reason you had so many votes was 'cause all the big young ladies
wrote your name--every one in that class! Miss Ashton just told papa
so. It's very nice to have so many give it to you, Bessie: is it
not?"
Nice! Bessie thought so indeed! A happier child could not have been
found than she was, as she sat with her head leaning upon her
mother's breast, wearing a face of such perfect content. She had her
reward indeed, not only a heart at peace with God and man, but also
the longed-for gift for the crippled boy. Had she given way in that
moment of temptation, it could not have come to her fairly; and
where, oh, where would have been the first?
She had nothing more to wish for now.
Smiles, kisses, and congratulations were showered upon her, every one
seemed to be so glad for her; and she thought it quite strange but
very pleasant that so many people who did not know Jemmy should feel
such an interest in his good fortune.
And there was Maggie--dear unselfish Maggie!--full of eager sympathy,
and rejoicing in her joy.
"My disappointment is quite made up in this, Bessie," she said. "It
makes so many more people happy than my having the desk would have
done, and it will do Jemmy so much good. And then, you know, Nellie
does not have half so many nice things as we do, so it is better for
her to have it. She has not done being surprised yet: it was such a
very unexpected blow to her that she can hardly believe it; but she
is so happy about it, I couldn't help telling her I was glad for her."
"Little honey-bee, that takes all the sweet and leaves all the
bitter!" said Colonel Rush, as he drew Maggie fondly towards him.
"But what is our 'angel' going to say to all this? I am afraid she
will feel that the 'subject' has not met with proper consideration."
"The 'subject' is too little to know now," said sunshiny Maggie; "and
when she is bigger we won't tell her anything about it."
"Indeed we will," said the colonel, pushing back Maggie's curls from
beneath the crown of lilies. "I shall tell her the whole story."
"I wouldn't," said Maggie; "she might have feelings about it."
"I hope she will, if they are of the proper kind," said the colonel,
laughing; "and I should not be surprised if she had some opinions to
express even now."
Maggie wondered what he meant; but just then some of the children
spoke to her, and she forgot his words, to remember them another time.
The rest of the afternoon was spent in amusing themselves in various
ways; the May Queen being throned and carried in state about house
and garden; but she proved restive under this, and, as Kate said,
"set a very undignified example to her subjects," by escaping from
their hands, and insisting on racing and jumping upon her own nimble
little feet. None who saw how joyous and merry she was, how free
from every selfish thought and envious feeling, would have imagined
that there had been a time when she had been too anxious for this
prize which had at last fallen to another; that she had said and felt
that she could never bear the disappointment of losing it. A
contrast she was to Gracie, certainly, who could enjoy none of the
pleasures offered to her because she had not gained that on which she
had set her heart, looking, not for God's approval, but for that of
man, and her own honour and glory.