A SABBATH TO REMEMBER.
SUNDAY was a successful day at the Deckers. The sun shone brilliantly;
a trifle too warm, you might have thought it, for comfort; but the
little Deckers did not notice it. The fish was beautifully browned and
the coffee was delicious. Mr. Decker had a clean shirt which his wife
had contrived to wash and mend, the day before, and all things were
harmonious. Some time before nine o'clock. Sate and Susie were arrayed
in their new white suits, and with their trim new shoes, and hair
beautifully neat, they were as pretty little girls as one need want
to see. Nettie surveyed them with unqualified satisfaction, and then
seated them, each with a picture primer, while she made her own toilet.
She put on the dress which had been her best for Sunday, all summer. It
was a gingham, a trifle finer and a good deal lighter than the brown
one in which she had travelled. It was neatly made, and fitted her
well; and the brown hat and ribbons looked well with it.
On the whole, when they set off for Sabbath-school, Jerry accompanying
them, arrayed in a fresh brown linen suit, Mrs. Decker watching them
from the side window, admitted that she never saw a nicer-looking set
in her life! She even had the courage to call Mr. Decker to see how
nice the two little girls looked, and he came and watched them out of
sight. And when he said that his Nan was about as nice a looking girl
as he wanted to see, she answered heartily that Nannie was the very
best girl she ever saw in her life.
Fairly in the Sabbath-school, a fit of extreme shyness came over
the two little Deckers. With Susie, as usual, it took the form
of fierceness; she planted her two stout feet in the doorway and
resolutely shook her head to all coaxings to go any farther; keeping
firm hold of Sate's hand, and giving her arm a jerk now and then, to
indicate to her that she was not to stir from her protector's side.
The situation was becoming embarrassing. Nettie could not leave them,
and Jerry would not; though some of the boys were giggling, those of
his class were motioning him to leave the group and join them. The
superintendent came forward and cordially invited the children in, but
Susie scowled at him and shook her head. Then Jerry went around to
Sate's side and held out his hand. "Sate," he said in a winning tone,
"come with me over where all those pretty little girls sit, and I will
get you a picture paper with a bird on it."
To Susie's utter dismay, Sate who had meekly obeyed her slightest whim
during all her little life, suddenly dropped the hand that held hers,
and gave the other to Jerry, with a firm: "I'm going in, Susie; we came
to go in, and Nettie wants us to." Poor, astonished, deserted Susie!
She had been so sure of Sate that she had neglected to keep firm hold,
and now she had slid away. There was nothing left for Susie but to
follow her with what grace she could.
They were seated at last. Seven little girls of nearly Nettie's size
and age. As she took a seat among them, I wish I could give you an idea
of how she felt. Up to this hour, it had not occurred to her that she
was not as well dressed as others of her age. Not quite that, either;
being a wise little woman of business, she was well aware that her
clothes were plain, and cheap, and that some girls wore clothes which
cost a great deal of money. But I mean that this was the first time
she had taken in the thought of the difference, so that it gave her a
sting. The Sabbath-school which she had been attending, was a mission,
in the lower part of the city; the scholars, nearly all of them, coming
from homes where there was not much to spare on dress; and the girls
of her class had all of them dressed like herself, neatly and plainly.
It was very different with these seven girls. She felt at once, as
she seated herself, as though she had come into the midst of a flower
garden where choice blossoms were glowing on every side, and she
might be a poor little weed. Summer silk dresses, broad-brimmed hats
aglow with flowers, kid gloves, dainty lace-trimmed parasols--what a
beautiful world it was into which this poor little weed had moved?
Nettie knew that her hat was coarse, and the ribbon narrow and cheap,
and her gloves cotton, but these things had never troubled her before.
Why should they now?
The truth is, it was not the pretty things, but the curious glances
that their owners gave at the small brown thrush which had come in
among them. They seemed to poor Nettie to be making a memoranda of
everything she had on, from the narrow blue ribbon on her hair to the
strong neat boots in which her plump feet were encased. The look in
their eyes said, "How queerly she is dressed!" It was impossible to
get away from the thought of their thoughts, and from the fact that
the girl next to her drew her blue silk dress closer about her, and
placed her pink-lined parasol on the other side, even though the pretty
lady who sat before them in the teacher's seat, welcomed her kindly,
and hoped she would be happy among them. Nettie hoped so, too; but she
could hardly believe that it could be possible.
She looked over at Jerry. He seemed to be having a good time; there was
not so much difference in boys' clothes as in girls. She did not see
but he looked as well as any of them. She looked forward at the little
girls. Susie had allowed herself to be led in search of Sate, and the
two were at this moment side by side in a seat full of bobbing heads;
they had taken off their sunbonnets, and their pretty heads bobbed
about with the rest, and the white dresses of the two looked as well
at a distance as the others, though Nettie could see that there were
ruffles, and tucks, and embroidery and lace. But some were plain; and
none of the wee ones seemed to notice or to care. It was only Nettie
who had gotten among those who made her care, by the glance of their
eyes, and the rustle of their finery. She tried to get away from it
all; tried hard. She listened to the words read, and joined as well as
she could, in the hymn sung, and answered quietly and correctly, the
questions put to her; but all the while there was a queer lump in her
throat, which kept her swallowing, and swallowing, and a wish in her
heart that she could go back to Auntie Marshall's.
[Illustration: LORENA BARSTOW.]
When the service was over, she stood waiting, feeling shy and alone.
Jerry was talking with the boys in his class, and the little girls
were being kissed by their pretty teacher. Her classmates stood and
looked at her. At last the teacher who had been talking with one of the
secretaries turned to her with a pleasant voice:
"Well, Nettie, we are glad to have you with us. Can you come every
Sabbath, do you think? Are you acquainted with these girls? No? Then
you must be introduced. This is Irene Lewis, and this is Cecelia
Lester," and in this way she named the seven girls, each one making in
turn what seemed to poor Nettie the stiffest little bow she had ever
seen. At last, Irene Lewis, who stood next to her, and wore an elegant
fawn-colored silk dress trimmed with lace, tried to think of something
to say.
"You haven't begun school yet, have you? I haven't seen anything of
you. What grade are you in?"
Nettie explained that she had not been in a regular school; that she
went afternoons to a private school which had no grades, and that now
she did not expect to go at all; because mother could not spare her.
"A private school!" said Miss Irene, "and held only in the afternoon!
What a queer idea! I should think morning was the time to study. What
was it for?"
Then it became necessary to further explain that the girls who attended
this afternoon school, had all of them work to do in the mornings, and
could not be spared.
"I have heard of them," said Lorena Barstow. "They are sort of charity
schools, are they not?"
Lorena was dressed in white, and looked almost weighed down with rich
embroidery; but she had a disagreeable smile on her face, and a look in
her eyes that made Nettie's face crimson.
"I don't know," she said, quietly, "I never heard it called by that
name. My auntie thought very well of it, and was glad to have me go."
Then she turned away, and hoped that none of the girls would ask her
any more questions, or try to be friendly with her. Just now, she
could be glad of only one thing, and that was, that she need not go to
school with these disagreeable people. She stepped quite out of sight
behind the screen which shielded the next class, and waited impatiently
for the little girls. They seemed to be having a very nice time, and
were in no haste to come to her. Standing there, waiting, she had the
pleasure of hearing herself talked about.
"Isn't she a queer little object?" said Lorena Barstow. And when one of
the others was kind enough to say that she did not see anything very
queer about her, Lorena proceeded to explain.
"You don't! Well, I should think you might. Did you ever see a girl in
our class before, with a gingham dress on? Of course she wore her very
best for the first Sunday; and her hat is of very coarse straw, just
the commonest kind, and last year's shape at that; then look at her
cotton gloves! I'm sure I think she is as funny a little object as ever
came into this room."
"What of it? I am sure she looks neat and clean, and she spoke very
prettily, and knew her lesson better than any of us."
"I didn't say she didn't. I was only talking about her clothes."
"Clothes are not of much consequence."
"O Miss Ermina! When you dress better than any of us. Why don't you
wear gingham dresses, and cheap ribbons, and cotton gloves, if you
think they look as well as nice ones?"
"I did not say that; I wear the clothes my mother gets for me; but I
truly don't think they are the most important things in the world."
"Neither do I. You needn't take a person up in that way, as though you
were better than anybody else. I am sure I am willing she should wear
what she likes."
Then Cecelia Lester took up the conversation:
"She could not be expected to dress very well, of course. Don't you
know she is old Joe Decker's daughter?"
"Who is Joe Decker? I never heard of him."
"Well, he is just a drunkard; they live over on Hamlin street. Mrs.
Decker washes for my auntie once in awhile, when they have extra
company, and I have seen her there, with both the little girls. I heard
that Joe's daughter who has been living out, for years, was coming
home."
"Living out! that little thing! No wonder she hasn't better clothes.
She has a pretty face, I think. But it seems sort of queer to have her
come into our class, doesn't it? We sha'n't know what to do with her!
She can't go in our set, of course."
"O, I don't know. Perhaps Ermina Farley will invite her to her party."
At this point, all the others laughed, as though a funny thing had
been said, but Ermina spoke quietly: "So far as her gingham dress is
concerned, I am sure I would just as soon. I don't choose my friends on
account of the clothes they wear; and I suppose the poor thing cannot
help her father being a drunkard; but then, I shouldn't like to invite
her, for fear you girls would not treat her well."
Nettie could see the toss of Lorena Barstow's yellow curls as she
answered: "Well, I must say I like to be careful with whom I associate;
and mother likes to have me careful. I am sorry for the girl; but
I don't know that I need make her my most intimate friend on that
account. Say, girls, did you ever notice what fine eyes that boy has
who came in with her? Some think he is a real handsome fellow."
"He seems to be a particular friend of this girl; I saw them on the
street together yesterday, and they were talking and laughing, as
though they enjoyed each other ever so much. Who is that boy?"
Lorena seemed to be prepared to answer all questions.
"He isn't much," she said, with another toss of her yellow curls. "His
name is Jerry Mack; a regular Irish name, and he is Irish in face; I
think he is coarse-looking; dreadful red cheeks! The girls over on the
West Side say he is smart, and handsome, and all that. I don't see
where they find it."
"O, he is smart," said Cecelia Lester. "My brother knows him, and he
says there isn't a more intelligent boy in town. I used to think he
was splendid; I have talked with him some, and he is real pleasant; but
I must say I don't understand why he goes with that Decker girl all the
time."
"I don't see why he shouldn't," declared Lorena. "For my part, I think
they are well matched; he works for his board at Job Smith's the
carman's, and she is a drunkard's daughter; they ought to be able to
have nice times together."
"Does he work for his board?" chimed in two or three voices at once.
"Why, I suppose so, or gets it without working for it. He lives there,
anyway. They say his father has deserted him, run away to California,
or somewhere; Jerry will have to learn the carman's trade, and support
himself, and Nettie, too, maybe." Whereupon there was a chorus of
giggles. Something about this seemed to be thought funny.
Ermina seemed to have left the group, so they took her up next. "Ermina
Farley meant to invite him to her party, but I hardly think she will,
when she finds out how all we girls feel about it. She tries to do
things different from everybody else, though; so perhaps that will be
the very reason why she will ask them both. I'll tell you what it is,
girls, we must stand up for our rights, and not let her have everything
her own way. Let's say squarely that we will not go to her party if she
invites out of our set. I could endure the boy if I had to, because he
is very polite, and merry; and so few of the boys around here know how
to behave themselves; but if he has chosen that Decker girl for his
friend, we must just let them both alone. This class isn't the place
for that girl; I wonder who invited her in? I think it was real mean
in Miss Wheeler to ask her to come again, without knowing how we felt
about it."
All this time was poor Nettie behind that screen. Not daring to stir,
because there was no place for her to go. The little girls were still
engaged with their teacher, who had Sate on her lap, and Susie by her
side, and was showing them some picture cards, and apparently telling
them a story about the pictures. Jerry had sat down beside a boy who
was copying something which Jerry seemed to be reading to him, and
various groups stood about, chatting. They were waiting for the bell
to toll before they went into church. Nettie could not go without the
little girls, and she could not stir without being brought into full
view. And just then she felt as though it would not be possible for her
to meet the eyes of anybody. If only she could run away and hide, where
she need never see any of those dreadful girls again! or, for that
matter, see anybody. It was true, she was a drunkard's daughter, and
would go down lower and lower, until her neat dress would be in rags,
and her hat, coarse as it was, would grow frayed, and be many years
behind the fashion. What a cruel, wicked world it was! Who could have
imagined that those pretty, beautifully dressed girls could have such
cruel tongues, and say such hateful words! Didn't they know she was
within hearing? Couldn't they have waited until she got out of the way,
so that she need not have known how dreadful they were?
So far as that was concerned, they did not know it. To do them justice,
I think none of them would have wounded her so, quite to her face.
They might have been cold, but they would not have been cruel in her
presence. They thought she went out of the room, instead of behind the
screen. The bell tolled, at last, and Jerry finished his reading, and
came over to her, his face bright. The girls in their beautiful plumage
fluttered away like gay birds, the teacher of the little girls came
toward her holding a hand of each, and saying brightly: "Are these your
little sisters? What dear little treasures they are! We have had such
a pleasant time together. I hope you have enjoyed your first day at
Sabbath-school?"
"Thank you, ma'am," said Nettie. She was in great doubt as to whether
this was a correct answer, for the sentence had the tone of a question
in it, but truthful Nettie could not say that she enjoyed it very much,
and did not want to say that she had never had a more miserable time in
her life.
Jerry was harder to answer. "Was it nice?" he asked her, as soon as
they were fairly outside. "Did you have a good time? Those girls looked
a trifle like peacocks, didn't they? I thought you were the best
dressed one among them."
O, ignorant boy! If there hadn't been such a lump in Nettie's throat,
she would have laughed at this bit of folly. As it was, she contrived
to give him a very little shadow of a smile, and was glad that the
church door was near at hand, and that there was no more time for
closer questions.
All through the morning service she was trying to forget. It was
not easy to do, for there sat three of the girls in a seat on which
she could look down all the time; and try as she would, it seemed
impossible to keep eyes or thoughts from turning that way. The girls
did not behave very well. They whispered a good deal, during the Bible
reading, and giggled over a book that fell while the hymn was being
sung; and though Nettie covered her eyes during prayer, she could not
help hearing a soft little buzz of whispering voices, even then. Jerry
looked straight before him, with bright, untroubled face, and seemed
to be having a good time. Susie and Sate, who had never been in church
before in their lives, behaved remarkably well. In the course of the
morning Sate leaned her little brown head trustingly against Nettie and
dropped asleep, and Nettie put her arm around her, arranged her pretty
head comfortably, and looked lovingly down upon her, and was glad that
she had a little sister to love. Two of them, indeed, for Susie sat
bolt upright and looked straight before her, and took in everything
with wide-open eyes, and looked so handsome with her glowing cheeks and
her lovely curls, that it was almost impossible not to feel proud of
the womanly little face.
Nettie contrived to keep herself occupied with the prattle of the
children during the walk home. She was not yet ready for Jerry's
questions. She did not know what to say. Of one thing she felt sure;
that was, that she never meant to go to that Sabbath-school again.
Dinner was nearly ready when they reached home; such an appetizing
smell of soup as had never filled the Decker kitchen before. Mrs.
Decker had followed the directions of her young daughter with great
care; and presently a very comfortable family sat down to the table.
There were no soup plates, but there were two bowls for the father and
mother, and a deep saucer for Norm; and the little girls were made
happy with tin cups, two of which Nettie had found and scoured, the day
before. It was certainly a very pleasant time. After dinner, as Nettie
was preparing to wash the dishes, her mother came out with a troubled
face, and whispered:
"Norm says he guesses he will go out for a walk; and I know what
that means; he gets with a mean set every Sunday, and they carouse
dreadful; it is the worst day in the week for boys. I was thinking,
what if you could get that boy next door to go a-fishing again; Norm
enjoyed it last night first-rate; and he said that boy was as jolly
company as he should ever want. If he could keep him away from that
set, he would be doing a good deed."
"But, mother," she said, "it is Sunday."
"Yes," said Mrs. Decker, "that's just what I've been saying; Sunday is
the day when he gets into the worst kind of scrapes. Do you think Jerry
would help us?"
"I know he would if he could; but he could not go fishing on Sunday,
you know."
"Why not? I should think it was enough sight better than for Norm to go
off with a set of loafers, who do all sorts of wicked things."
Poor Nettie was not skilled in argument; she did not know how to
explain to her mother that Jerry must not do one wrong thing, to keep
Norm from doing another wrong thing, even though the thing he chose
might be the worse of the two. There was only a simple statement which
she could make. "This is God's day, mother, and he says we must not do
our own work, or our own pleasure on his day; and I know Jerry will
try to obey him, because he is his soldier."
Mrs. Decker looked at the red-cheeked young girl a moment, then drew a
long sigh.
"Well," she said, "I know that is the way good folks talk; I used to
hear plenty of it when I was young; and I was brought up to keep the
Sabbath as strict as anybody; I would do it now if I could; but I'm
free to confess that I would rather have Norm go a-fishing, ten times
over, than to go with those fellows and get drunk."
"Yes'm," said Nettie, respectfully. "But then, God says we must obey
him; and he has told us just how to keep the Sabbath day. He couldn't
help us to do things for other people, if we begin by disobeying Him."
Mrs. Decker went away, the trouble still on her face, and Nettie began
to wash the dishes. Suddenly, she dropped her dish towel and rushed
after Norman as he lounged out of the door.
"Norman," she called, just as he was moving down the street, "won't you
take the little girls and me over to that green place, that I see, the
other side of the pond? There is such a pretty tree there, and it looks
so pleasant on the bank. I have some story papers that I promised
to read to the little girls, and that would be such a nice place for
reading. Won't you?"
Norm stopped and looked down at her in astonishment, and some
embarrassment. "You can go over there without me," he said, at last;
"it isn't such a dreadful ways off; there's a plank across the stream
down there a ways, where it is narrow. Lots of girls go there."
Nettie looked over at it timidly. She was honestly afraid of the water,
and nothing short of keeping Norm out of harm's way would have tempted
her to cross a plank, with the little girls for companions. She spoke
in genuine timidity.
"I wouldn't like to go over there alone, with just the children. I am
not used to going about alone. Couldn't you go with us, for just a
little while? It will seem so nice to have a big brother to take care
of me."
Something about it all seemed suddenly rather nice to Norm. He had
never been asked to take care of anybody before. He stood irresolutely
for a moment, then said lazily, "Well, I don't know as I care; bring on
your babies, then, and we'll go."
Nettie sped back to the kitchen, dashed after the little girls and
their sunbonnets, saying to Mrs. Decker as she went: "Mother, would you
mind finishing the dishes? Norman is going to take the little girls and
me over to the big tree, and we are going to stay there awhile, and
read."
"I'll finish,'em," said Mrs. Decker, comfort in her tone, and she
murmured, as she watched them away, Sate with her hand slipped inside
of Norm's, "I declare, I never see the beat of that girl in all my
life."