CLEARED.
Gretchen came slowly up the lawn, and stood for a moment shyly by the
side of Miss Eunice.
"Is there anything I can do for you, my child?" said the young lady,
pleasantly, desiring to put her at her ease.
"Please, will you write my name there?" she said, pointing to the list.
"I can't write English letters, and I was ashamed to have the other
girls know."
"That is nothing to be ashamed of," said Etta. "I don't believe any of
the other girls can write German letters. But, Gretchen, do you honestly
want to give yourself to your Saviour, and to live so as to serve and
please him?"
"Yes, Miss Etta. I shall never forget the night you prayed for me when I
was so sick. You said the Lord Jesus would hear the prayer, and take me
if I came to him. I think he did so, and I have been coming to him
again and again, ever since. He has been good, so good to me, saving me
from dying and making me get well from that terrible sickness. The more
I read about him in my Bible, the more I love him and want to honor him.
But, Miss Etta, it was you who told me about him, and I shall never
forget that night."
Etta's eyes filled with glad tears, while her sister added the sixteenth
name to the list, and she clasped the hard, red hand with a feeling of
sisterhood, for which she could hardly account.
Gretchen's sickness had greatly improved her appearance, toning down her
overbright color, and giving her a look of greater delicacy. Mrs.
Robertson and Katie had managed to exchange the dark woolen petticoat
and jacket for a simple summer dress such as the other girls wore; while
contact with the others in the friendly home life had brightened up her
intellect, and her new, deeper feelings and desire after a spiritual
life had given her a certain earnestness of expression which made the
homely German features very pleasant to look upon.
She was just going away after thanking both her teachers in a quaint,
formal manner, when Etta said:--
"Gretchen, I don't want you to tell tales about your companions, and you
need not answer unless you wish to do so, but I have been told that you
know facts concerning a rumor about Katie Robertson, that I very much
desire to find out. Can you, honorably, tell me anything about it?"
"Some of the girls don't like her; I don't know why. She's always a very
nice girl to me, and so good to her mother!"
"But the rumor is that she is dishonest, and that you saw her steal
something."
"I saw Katie steal?" said Gretchen, very slowly. "Never, never in my
life. Oh, I know," a light breaking over her face at a sudden
recollection. "Bertha and I both saw her find a bill in an old
vest-pocket one day, and put it in her own. Bertha spoke about it to me,
but it wasn't my business. Finding isn't stealing."
"It isn't quite honest to keep what we find," said Miss Eunice. "We
should try to restore it to the owner."
"But how could she find the owner?" said Gretchen, eagerly. "He might
be away over in Germany, or--or anywhere."
"That is true," said Etta, thoughtfully. "It's strange! I can't believe
that Katie's dishonest."
"Oh, she isn't; I'm sure she isn't! I only wish I could prove it; but
this is all I know about the matter."
"Well, dear, thank you for saying what you have said. Don't say a word
about it among your companions. I know I can trust you that far, and I
will find out the mystery somehow. Good-night, Gretchen. God bless you
in your new service," and Miss Eunice kissed her, little German
factory-girl though she was.
"Find out the mystery? Of course we can; just as easy as possible, now,"
said Etta. "All we've got to do is just to ask James if such an
occurrence ever happened in the mill."
And Mr. James Mountjoy promptly coming in at that moment, both sisters
appealed to him, and heard in return a very simple statement of the
whole affair.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"I did mean to. I thought it so noble in the child. Five girls out of
every six would have put the money into their pockets, and said nothing
about it. It was very brave in her, too, to tell me how she had been
tempted to keep it."
"I know why he did not tell," said the elder sister, looking fondly at
her brother. "Five employers out of six would have accepted the money as
their right, and the finder have been none the better for it. Our James
is not apt to trumpet his own praises."
The young man colored, and said:--
"I think Katie Robertson is an uncommonly fine girl. I was struck by
something she said the day she entered the mill. I asked her if she
thought she could be a faithful little girl, and she said she was trying
to please God everywhere, and she was sure he would help her here. I
think she has acted up to that idea ever since. I have watched her from
time to time, and I can not find that she has ever been guilty of
disobedience to rules, or any kind of underhand behavior. Her work has
always been faithfully done, and her example has been of great use in
keeping order among the others. Sanderson is enthusiastic in his praises
of her bravery and womanly unselfishness. He says she came to his house
at the risk of her own life, and helped his poor, tired-out wife take
care of the two sick children with as much earnestness, and almost as
much skill, as a professional nurse. She stayed there till the aunt from
the city came, thus losing five days' work. I offered her the wages for
those days when I found it out, but she told me Mr. Sanderson had given
her the amount, and she did not want to be paid twice over."
"And this is the girl we have been suspecting of dishonesty!" said Etta.
"We really owe her something to make amends. What a little wretch that
Bertie Sanderson must be! I really think her parents ought to be told
all the circumstances."
All this while a pile of unopened letters, brought by the evening mail,
was lying upon the centre-table. The young gentleman turned them over,
took possession of several which were directed to himself, and then,
handing Etta one which he said was for her, left the room.
"Who can it be from?" said the young lady, eyeing the strangely folded
and badly directed epistle, without opening it, as is the manner of so
many people.
"I'd see if I were you," said her sister; and seeing that this was good
advice, Etta took it, glanced at the signature, and exclaimed:--
"Bertie Sanderson! what a coincidence!"
The letter was as follows:--
NEW YORK, August 15, 18--.
My Dear Miss Etta,--I don't know how to write letters very
well, but I must tell you something that is upon my mind. It is
about Katie Robertson. You remember I told you she was a thief,
and I told all the girls she was dishonest. I didn't _know_
that she was; I only saw her find a fifty-dollar bill among the
rags one day, and put it in her pocket. I didn't know what she did
with it, and I didn't try to find out, because I was jealous and
hated her. She used to tell me it was dishonest to break rules,
and talk, and idle, when one was paid for working, and I felt kind
of glad to think I had found her out in being dishonest too. I
told the girls about it--not all, but just enough to make them
think her a thief, because at first they all seemed to think so
much more of her than they did of me, and I told you just the same
thing when you asked me. I tried to tell father when he used to
praise up Katie Robertson's independence and industry, and wish I
would follow her example. You see, it was all because of her that
he put me in the mill. But somehow I couldn't tell him. I was
afraid.
You see, Miss Etta, I have been a very wicked girl, and when I got
so sick I was afraid to die. I tried to think I hadn't told a lie,
because I _did_ see her find the money, and I _didn't_
know what she had done with it; but I knew I had "borne false
witness," and I hadn't "loved my neighbor as myself." I knew, too,
that nobody could go to heaven with a heart full of malice and
hatred, and I wanted to tell Katie all about it, and ask her to
forgive me, and when I got wild I kept calling for her. Then she
came and stayed and took such good care of me, I've been ashamed
since I knew about it; but I didn't know her or any one then, only
one day my wits seemed to come back to me and I told her all about
it, and she explained so simply how she had found the money and
taken it to Mr. James, and Mr. James had told her to keep it, that
I saw in a moment that it was only because I wanted to think her
bad that I didn't find out just how it was long before.
I felt so bad then, Miss Etta, because I thought I was surely
dying, and going before God with all that unforgiven sin upon me,
and Katie talked so sweetly about Jesus and his forgiveness and
help that I thought I'd like to try. But then I didn't know
anything for a long time till I woke up and found my aunt there,
and they said I couldn't see Katie again, because she might get
the fever or carry it to her brothers.
I was dreadfully unhappy, even after I came here, not only about
this, but because of all the other bad things I've done all my
life. I've been selfish and vain, and unkind and untruthful and
dishonest, and I almost wished I had died when I was sick, only
then I could not have gone to heaven, and I never could have
cleared Katie.
Since I have been here I have been to church a good deal with my
cousins, who are Congregationalists, and are both going to join
the church. There is a daily service, and there have been a large
number of conversions. I have talked a good deal with my aunt, and
I really do want to commence over again and be a good girl. Aunt
Anna says that Jesus died so that the very worst sinners might be
forgiven, and I think he will forgive me. She wants me to stay and
be received with her daughters here, but I'd rather join the dear
church in Squantown, with the other girls, if you think I might.
But I want Katie and all the girls to know just how bad I have
been and just how sorry I am. Please tell them all that I have
said, and write and tell me if you think I might join the church,
when I've been so wicked.
Give my best love to Miss Eunice and ask her to forgive me, too.
Your affectionate Sunday scholar,
BERTHA SANDERSON.
"I think we may join in the joy of the angels in the presence of God
over the one sinner that repenteth," said Miss Eunice, as her sister
finished this long and evidently earnest letter. "I think you may safely
write to the dear child to come home and commence her new life among us.
Your class is greatly blessed, my sister, and I think when we remember
what it has done for Gretchen and Bertie, we may well thank God for the
ship-fever as for an angel in disguise."
The next Sunday Etta Mountjoy detained her class a few moments after the
school session, and read to them the whole of Bertie's letter.
It was received with various expressions of surprise, which were greatly
augmented when the whole story of the fifty-dollar bill was told.
"I have brought this all before you, girls," she said, "not to make you
think hardly of Bertie. She has suffered too much and is too evidently
sincerely sorry for me to do that. I want you to rejoice with me in her
repentance, and when she comes back, to receive her with full
forgiveness and sympathy, and aid her in her efforts to lead a new life.
I thought you ought to know how well one little girl among us has
behaved under the most unjust suspicions and great unkindness. Not one
of us has understood Katie Robertson. She has known for four weeks, from
Bertie's statement to her, what was the real reason of our avoidance and
suspicion, and she has never opened her mouth to explain the true state
of the case and clear herself, as she might easily have done, because by
so doing she would have been obliged to tell of the unkindness and
malice of her companion.
"I think we all ought to ask her pardon for being so ready to condemn
her unheard and to believe what was whispered against her; and, more
than that, we ought to be very thankful to the Lord for giving her such
a grand victory over herself."
Katie blushed and could find nothing to say, as one after another the
girls and their teacher shook hands with her and kissed her; but it was
a very happy heart the little girl carried home with her that bright
Sunday.
"Tessa," she said, "it's all true, every word:
"'Commit thy way unto the Lord,
And He _shall_ bring it to pass.'"