When Hatty had arranged her clothes once more neatly in her own room,
she began to wonder what had become of Marcus, and she concluded to go
in search of him; she met him in the hall. He seemed much excited, and
said, "O Hatty, what beautiful bantams! I have put them in a barrel, and
carried all the packages grandma sent, to the kitchen, and now I want to
know where we shall keep them?"
Hatty was not quite pleased that Marcus should take the bantams so
immediately under his protection, though she had brought them as a
present to him. She checked the feeling of annoyance, and said
pleasantly, "They are yours, Marcus, so you can plan for them as you
think best; but perhaps you could manage to make a coop, as you do not
go to school to-day."
Marcus was delighted with the presents, and resolved to set to work
immediately to get the pets into comfortable quarters before Sunday.
Hatty put on her sun-bonnet, and they both were soon very busy in the
yard, planning for the chicken coop with as much interest as if they
were going to build some wonderful specimen of architecture which all
the world would admire.
Marcus found in the wood-house a large packing box, and after much
hammering he succeeded in knocking out one side, so the chickens could
have their feet on the ground in their new home.
"Chickens are like the Irishman who liked a mud floor that would never
wear out, and never need washing," said Marcus, with the air of one who
was instructing some ignorant person.
"Yes, grandma has all her coops made that way," said Hatty, who was well
pleased to show that she understood the subject.
Marcus now selected a board of the right length, and had just begun to
split it up into slabs for the front of the coop, when he heard Aunt
Barbara's bed-room window go up.
Marcus did not raise his eyes, but he could not stop his ears, and he
had to hear the shrill tone that called out, "Stop! stop! Marcus Lee!"
Marcus rested his hatchet on the board, and looked up.
"You are a wasteful boy!" began Aunt Barbara. "You ought to be ashamed
to cut up that good board!"
"Don't mind her," said Marcus, in an undertone, as he resumed his work.
"Wait a minute, Marcus," said Hatty; and then raising her voice she
called out, "Aunt Barbara, we want a coop for the chickens--some dear
little bantams I brought from grandma's!"
"Chickens!" said Aunt Barbara, much as if she had said bears! "What on
earth did you bring them here for? why, they'll ruin everything in the
garden, and crow so in the morning nobody can sleep."
"We are going to shut them up, Aunt Barbara, and that will keep them out
of mischief," said Hatty, trying to speak pleasantly.
"Take your own way! take your own way! Its never any use for me to say
anything!" said Aunt Barbara, and her window was put down with such a
force that made the glass rattle.
Marcus had expected to hear Hatty answer in her usual hasty way, and he
was quite surprised to see that she did not seem at all angry, and now
had no unkind remarks to make about Aunt Barbara. He did not know that
Hatty had been obliged to cast one look up to the clear sky, to remember
the Great Being who was looking down upon her, before she dare trust
herself to speak, nor did he know that she was now wondering why Aunt
Barbara should be so unlike her dear, dear grandma.
Marcus kept steadily on at his work, but Hatty did not feel satisfied
about it until she had asked her mother if there was really any harm in
what they were doing. After Mrs. Lee had given them free permission to
go on, the morning passed pleasantly away in watching Marcus, and she
was quite surprised when the dinner bell rang.
"O dear!" said Hatty, "we shall have hardly time to put ourselves in
order for the table."
Although Marcus knew that it was his mother's express wish that he
should never come to the table without looking neat and tidy, he paid
little regard to his personal appearance; but there was something in
the eager way in which Hatty hastened to brush the hair she had been too
much inclined to neglect, that had its influence on him.
Hatty was in her seat before her father was at the table, and a pleased
smile crossed her face as she saw that Marcus had been using the clothes
brush, and combing his straight black hair off his high forehead.
The dinner hour was always a pleasant time at Mrs. Lee's, for then all
the family were together, and some interesting conversation was sure to
take place. Marcus was a restless boy, active in body and mind. He
enjoyed his father's society, and affected to think that he was the only
one in the family who was really a suitable companion for a boy of the
mature age of twelve!
Mr. Lee was a merchant; he had lately met with large losses, but he did
not allow himself to be saddened by misfortunes that left his home
untouched, and all his dear ones alive and well. Mr. Lee was a tall,
slender man, with a bright, expressive eye, and a large, pleasant mouth,
and his children thought him the handsomest man in Hyde, the large
inland town where he lived.
During the dinner-hour on the day about which we are writing, Mr. Lee
was talking of a plan for building an Orphan Asylum, about which the
citizens of Hyde were greatly interested.
Marcus listened to his father's remarks, and seemed to think himself
called upon to reply. He did so, and showed uncommon quickness and good
sense for a boy of his years in what he said. Mrs. Lee modestly made
some suggestions, which her husband thought particularly useful; but
Marcus' lip curled as his mother spoke, in a way which it was well for
him escaped his father's observation. After dinner, Mr. Lee was obliged
to hurry away, but not too soon to give Hatty a kiss, and to say to her
how pleasant it was to see her face once more at the table.
When Mr. Lee was gone, Mrs. Lee resumed the subject about which they had
been talking, and sketched what she thought would be an improvement on
the internal arrangement of the proposed building.
"Now don't, Mother!" said Marcus. "What do women know about such
things?"
"What do boys know? you had better say!" said Hatty, hastily taking
part with her mother.
"Any sensible boy of twelve knows more about such things than a woman!"
said Marcus, turning to leave the room.
"Stop, Marcus," said Mrs. Lee, gently.
Marcus stopped, but did not approach his mother. She stepped to his side
and said: "Marcus, there was once a boy of twelve who had more wisdom
than the learned doctors in the Jewish Temple. He, of course, knew more
than his mother. Yet he went down with her to Nazareth, and was subject
unto her. Even he was not above honoring his father and mother. Will you
not try to imitate him?"
Marcus was softened by his mother's gentle manner, and he answered: "If
I don't behave as I ought to you, Mother, it is a great shame;" and then
he was again turning away.
Again he was detained. Hatty laid her hand on his arm and said: "Marcus,
I did not speak rightly to you just now. I was angry. I am sorry." Hatty
blushed painfully when she spoke, and it was evident the acknowledgment
cost her a great effort.
"I did not notice it," said Marcus, hurrying away.
Hatty felt a little hurt at the way her apology was received, but her
mother took her by the hand, and said: "That is right, Hatty. Confess
your faults one to another, and pray one for another. You must not
forget Marcus in your prayers."
Hatty was silent a moment, and then her mother said: "Come now, my dear,
the baby is awake, and you will have an opportunity to see his queer
little blue eyes, and to hold him in your lap."
Hatty was delighted when she reached the nursery, to be allowed to take
the tiny being in her arms, and to hold his pretty soft hand in hers.
Meg and Harry seemed to think it was a very attractive sight to see
Hatty with the baby on her lap, and they left their soap-bubbles and
came to stand about her.
At this moment Aunt Barbara came in. She did not seem to notice Hatty
and the baby. Her eyes at once fell upon the bowl full of soap-suds Meg
had placed on a chair.
"Dear! dear!" exclaimed Aunt Barbara, "what are the children coming to?
Why, they waste soap as if it grew, instead of cost money! Here, Meg,
pour this away directly, and don't do such a thing again!"
"It won't help it to throw it away," said Meg. "I want to blow bubbles."
"Shan't have it! shan't have it!" said little Harry, holding tight to
the edge of the bowl with his little fat hands.
"Aunt Barbara," said Mrs. Lee, very gently, "I told the children they
might blow bubbles a little while this afternoon. Jane mixed the soap
for them, that they need not be wasteful."
"Its little use savin' in such a house as this!" said Aunt Barbara, and
she walked away as if she were particularly injured.
Marcus now came in to tell how happy and contented the chickens seemed
in the new coop. He saw some evidences of displeasure on the faces of
Meg and Harry, and he exclaimed, "I met Aunt Barbara in the hall, with
her indignation strut on. What's up?"
"Marcus, my son, I cannot bear to hear you speak in that way of any old
person, especially of Aunt Barbara."
"But she is too tiresome and provoking, Mother. If I want a piece of
twine for a kite-string she calls it wasteful, and--"
"Yes," broke in Meg, "and when I want to play tea, she won't let me have
a bit of milk or sugar,--that is, if mother is not here."
"Hush, hush, my children," said Mrs. Lee, with a look of pain. "Come,
sit down all of you, and I will tell you a story."
Marcus liked to hear stories as well as little Meg herself, and he
forthwith sat down on the floor, where he could look straight into his
mother's eyes.
Mrs. Lee began: "Once there was a little orphan girl, only seven years
old. Her father and mother died, and she did not know what was to become
of her. Now this little girl had an aunt, who was the widow of a
clergyman. This aunt had a little cottage of her own, and just enough
money to live quietly and comfortably by herself. She knew if she took
the little orphan to her home, she must deny herself a great many
comforts to which she had always been accustomed; but she resolved to do
it.
The little girl was very glad when she found that she was not alone in
the wide world, and she soon learned to love the kind aunt who did so
much for her.
Sometimes she was surprised to see what care her aunt took, that nothing
should be wasted; and she often wondered why her aunt did not buy
herself a new bonnet, or a new dress, which she seemed to need. She did
not know that her aunt had to practice so much care and economy, to give
her a home. By and by, when she grew older, she understood all this, and
tried to be like a daughter to the friend who had been so kind to her.
Her aunt's queer little ways only made her feel, then, that it was for
her she had learned to save even the shreds she cut off when she was
sewing. After the orphan girl was grown, she was married to a very kind
gentleman. This gentleman was so grateful to the aunt for her care of
the orphan, that he wanted her to come and live with them in her
comfortable home; but Aunt Barbara said--"
"There, there, Mother! you have let it out," exclaimed the children in a
breath.
"Don't, don't," said Hatty; "what did Aunt Barbara say, Mother?"
"She said, your old aunty is queer and notional, and maybe you would be
happier without her. No, no, let me stay here alone; I shall be quite
contented to know my little orphan is so well taken care of! It was of
no use urging Aunt Barbara, so we had to let her have her way. Now, my
children, you know how Aunt Barbara got her very economical ways, and I
hope you will have patience with her, for my sake."
"Indeed, I will!" said Hatty, looking up with her eyes full of tears.
"I won't tease her any more," said Meg, nestling at her mother's side.
Marcus was silent; he felt too deeply to speak, how ill a return he had
made to Aunt Barbara for her kindness to his mother.
"But how came Aunt Barbara here?" asked Hatty, with much interest.
"I will tell you," said Mrs. Lee. "We had been married three years, when
I had a little, helpless, sickly baby. I was too feeble to take proper
care of it, and your father was obliged to be too much away from home to
give me any help. Aunt Barbara heard how weak and pale I was looking,
and what a poor, suffering baby I had. Then the old lady let her little
home to a stranger, and came one day to us. She said she could not
sleep for thinking of me and the little one, and she had come to take
care of us. And what good care she took of us! She seemed to know just
what I wanted. I was young, then, and there were many things about which
I was as ignorant as you are. Aunt Barbara had nourishing food made for
me just when I needed it, she took the care of the housekeeping from me,
and so nursed me that I soon began to feel strong again. But I have not
told you about the poor baby. Aunt Barbara could not do too much for
that baby. It was a cross little thing, crying even when it was not
sick. Aunt Barbara was never out of patience with it. She attended to
its food, got up with it at night, and even when I was well enough to
take it with me again, she was hardly willing to give it up.
"All this watching and nursing was too much for Aunt Barbara; she has
never been well since. When her rheumatism keeps her awake at night, she
is often irritable and inclined to find fault the next day. When I feel
tempted to be out of patience with her, I have only to remember that it
was for me and my little baby she came here, and that for us she
wearied herself until her health gave way."
"Mother," said Hatty, in a whisper, "was I that little sickly baby that
Aunt Barbara was so patient with?"
"Yes, my darling," was Mrs. Lee's reply.
The many impertinent, hasty, impatient words that she had spoken to her
old aunt, returned to Hatty's mind, and she resolved to ask God to give
her strength to make amends for the past.
"It is a sad truth," said Mrs. Lee, "that old people have much less
patience shown towards them than little children have, yet they need it
quite as much. God has so arranged it, that those who are watched over
and taken care of when they are helpless babes, should in their turn
nurse and comfort the feeble old age of their parents. Remember, my
children, old age makes people in one way like infants; that is, it
leads them to be irritable and troublesome, and often helpless, and
these defects should be borne with tenderly, as your father or I would
soothe that dear baby on Hatty's lap. God has taught in his holy book
the greatest respect to the aged, and his eye sees with displeasure
even a rude look cast towards one who is grey-haired."
The children were all silent. Mrs. Lee saw that they were moved, and in
her heart she prayed that God would grant a blessing upon the earnest
words she had spoken, and save her dear ones from falling into the sin
so offensive to the Holy One of Israel.