DIFFERENTLY CONSTITUTED.
NEITHER of the girls could tell which awoke first on New Year's morning,
for as Agnes said at the breakfast table, when they looked at each other
they were both awake.
Guy declared it was no wonder she graduated with such high honor when
she was so extremely wise; and Ruth gave it as her opinion that she
always had been a most precocious child, relating instances, some of
them so amusing that with the recollection came a general outburst of
merriment. "Do you remember the time the Millerites were making such an
ado about the world coming to an end, Guy, how she went to mother and
asked if it twisted itself round and round until it came to the end?"
"Don't I though, and the day she asked mother if _vertigo_ meant a
monkey. When mother told her no and laughed, she said it must be some
animal, for she read in the paper that a man went up into a tree and
while there was seized with vertigo."
"And the day she was transferred to another school, when she said she
had a note of transubstantiation."
"Yes, and"--Guy was about to continue, but Agnes declared she was not
going to sit there as a target for their fun, and ran laughing out of
the room.
"What are you going to do with yourselves, girls?" asked their brother,
as lighting a cigar he prepared to go out.
"O we are going to stay at home and have a nice time; you know holidays
don't come very often."
"Well, you women folks have queer ideas of a nice time, if that is what
you call staying in the house. Why, it is enough to make you stupid. Fix
yourself up like other girls, and promenade; that is what I mean to do."
"What, fix yourself up like other girls?" demurely asked Agnes, glad of
an opportunity to pay him back.
"O precocious child, I must be careful!" and he started for his
promenade.
"Be sure to be back at one," was Ruth's reminder, and then the girls
began to plan their "nice time." "I'll wash the breakfast dishes, Ruth,
while you make the beds, you tuck the counterpane in so smoothly and
have the pillows so straight," and Agnes, with sleeves pinned up and
crash apron on, began her work. Her heart was very light, and as she
worked she sang:--
"Behold I come with joy to do
The Master's blessed will;
My Lord in outward works pursue,
And serve his pleasure still.
Thus faithful to my Lord's commands,
I choose the better part,
And serve with careful Martha's hands,
But loving Mary's heart.
Though careful, without care I am,
Nor feel my happy toil,
Preserved in peace by Jesus' name,
Supported by his smile:
Rejoicing thus my faith to show,
His service my reward;
While every work I do below,
I do it to the Lord."
Ruth went up stairs and carefully spread the counterpane and arranged
the pillows, but she did it mechanically. She was thinking of what Guy
said about "fixing themselves up like other girls." She wondered if he
was dissatisfied with their appearance, and if that could be the reason
why he so seldom went out with them. Then he said they would become
stupid if they did not go out more. If she could be sure he did not
think them stupid now, she should not care. But he could not think so,
for he had told her she was brilliant, and she knew she was gayer and
more entertaining to him than to any one else, while as for Agnes, she
was too good to be stupid.
"I should like to dress better just for his sake, now that he is a
lawyer," she said with a little thrill of pleasure and pride. "Of course
he will have a great many friends and they will have to see us
sometimes. But--" here there was a pause and a deep sigh, "O, he does
not know how little we have to dress with, if we would keep out of debt.
There now, Agnes is singing and I am doing I scarcely know what," she
added, as her sister's voice reached her. She did not hear the words, if
she had heard they would have helped her. As it was, she chided herself
for beginning the year so badly and hurried down stairs to help prepare
dinner. Both she and Agnes decided it must be the very best dinner they
ever had, for Guy liked good things, and on school days they had to live
plainly. If the pudding was not _plum_ pudding, it would be "almost as
good," and they set to work gleefully stoning the raisins and beating
the eggs.
"Wouldn't it be nice if we could live this way always?" said Ruth, as
she put a large raisin in her mouth.
"Yes," replied Agnes, "but--"
"Now, Agnes, do leave the _buts_ and ifs out once, and say that you
would really like it."
"Well, yes, I am sure it would be very nice not to have to think and
plan so much about our way of living, and sometime I almost wish we had
more money for your sake and Guy's, but--I can't help it, it will
come," as Ruth made an impatient gesture--"indeed, Ruth, I should almost
fear to be rich."
"Why, for fear of losing your religion? I thought you had more faith."
"Yes, perhaps that is the reason, Ruth, my lack of faith on this point.
If I consecrated all but my money to the Lord, I might fear, for it
would not bring happiness with it, but God's grace can dim even the
shining of gold to the Christian, so that neither the eye nor the heart
may be held by it."
"It is when I look at the pitiful way in which it is doled out, even to
Him who gave it, that I dishonor God by having such thoughts. After all,
the grace of submission which we need, Ruth, is as hard to learn, as any
lesson that might come with riches; don't you think so?"
Agnes left the room for a few minutes and Ruth did not reply. But the
thought took possession of her mind. "The grace of submission, that is a
hard thing to learn indeed, at least for some people. I wonder if any
one ever submits _willingly_, or if it is not because when they reason
about it they find they cannot do better. I don't know about this thing
of having no will of your own: some people require greater strength than
others. Now there are Agnes and I so very unlike; she could not manage
and plan nearly so well as I. So it is necessary for me to have more
strength of will because I have no one to depend upon. If we had more
money it would be easier to be amiable and sweet, for then I should not
be perplexed. But I must need a great deal of teaching, or rather a
willingness to be taught, and that is the reason I can never see or feel
like Agnes in spiritual things."
Such a sense of want, such a longing came into her soul, that she
almost cried out; but Agnes returned, and driving back her emotion, Ruth
went on with her preparations.
With the greatest care Agnes set the table, bringing out the best china,
and arranging and re-arranging until she was sure everything was right,
then she and Ruth found it was time to dress.
"Fixing up like other girls," still ran in Ruth's mind, and going to the
wardrobe, she selected her maroon colored merino dress, because Guy said
it suited her complexion.
"Your best dress and lace bow," exclaimed Agnes, who considered herself
quite well dressed in her black alpaca, though it had been turned, and a
blue neck-tie.
"Yes," replied Ruth, "my best dress and lace bow. Extravagant, isn't it?
Promises well for the year?"
"One would think you expected somebody."
"So I do; a gentleman."
"O, Guy, you mean; but what is the reason you have your best dress on?"
"Indeed that is the very reason. I don't know for whom I should want to
dress, if not for Guy."
"Of course, Ruth, we should do more for him than for anyone, but you are
so careful of your good clothes, and so seldom wear them at home."
"Well, I have been thinking perhaps I had better pay more attention to
my appearance. Fix up a little more to be like other people, I mean. One
feels better satisfied with herself when she is looking well. And then,
Agnes, as Guy goes more into society, I fancy he is becoming
fastidious."
"Yes, I suppose so," returned Agnes, re-arranging her neck-tie. "How do
I look, Ruth; does this dress look shabby?"
"Shabby! one would scarcely know that it is not new. You always look
well dressed; but it takes a great deal of fixing to set me off."
Guy's face showed his approbation as he glanced over the table, and his
"Why, girls, this is a feast fit for a king!" carried with it, greater
pleasure, than the most graceful compliment from other lips could have
done. After dinner they walked out together "to see the New Year," Guy
said; and the girls felt sure that he must know all the great men of the
town, he bowed to so many. Then he was not the least ashamed of his
sisters either, Ruth thought, and she became quite animated, so that
Agnes, who knew nothing of the reason, wondered at the unusually high
spirits. _She_ was very happy, for she was with the two she loved best
on earth, and it seemed such a glad beginning to the year. She smiled,
talked, and looked to where Guy pointed, seeing beauty in everything,
even in the ragged children who begged pennies as they passed along, for
an inward light gave the charm, and a sweeter voice than that of brother
or sister, made gladness. Several visits were made that afternoon to old
friends who urged them to stay for tea; and it would have been pleasant,
the girls thought, but Guy appeared anxious to go home, so they yielded
very cheerfully. Guy had been planning a delightful surprise for his
sisters, and he meant to make the announcement at the tea-table.
"Now for home and an early tea," he said after making their last call.
The girls brightened at the thought that home was really becoming
attractive to Guy, and although they had thought it would be pleasant to
free themselves from home duties for one evening and enjoy it with their
friends, they lost sight of their own wishes in their great desire to
please Guy.
"It is the best place after all, isn't it?" said Agnes, looking at her
brother, who was holding the door for his sisters to enter. But his
hasty, "Yes, hurry up with tea, girls," gave a new turn to their
thoughts. Perhaps after all he meant to spend the evening out.
"Wouldn't it have been delightful if we could have staid at Borden's?"
asked Agnes, sitting down at the foot of the bed, her favorite seat, as
she untied her bonnet.
"Indeed it would," was the reply. "I don't know when I ever wanted so
much to stay. We might often go out for tea if it were not for Guy, and
that is one reason I wish we could keep a servant."
"A servant would not be company for him, Ruth, he would not come home at
all for tea if we were not here. But if he cared more for our friends he
would be more willing to visit with us. I don't think, however men care
to be from home at meal-time, and I am so glad Guy is not dissatisfied
with our plain way of living, now that he sees so much style and moves
in such a refined circle."
"Where would be the use in being dissatisfied, he knows it can't be
helped," was Ruth's reply as she turned to leave the room.
"I thought you were hungry," remarked Ruth, as Guy refused one or two
dishes that were handed him.
"Not very," was the reply.
"Well that was cool, hurrying us home as if you were on the point of
starvation, and now acknowledging that you are not hungry," said Agnes,
laughing.
"O, I only wanted you to have tea over soon, so that we could go out."
"Out!" exclaimed both, "where?"
"To the theatre, there is a splendid bill for to-night. Look your very
best girls."
A deathlike silence followed this announcement, and as Guy had finished,
he rose from the table and went into the parlor, leaving his sisters
sitting there. When he had gone they looked at each other. "O, Ruth!"
said Agnes, sorrowfully. And Ruth replied, sharply, "Well?" but it had a
sound of pain as if she had encountered some terrible sorrow, yet meant
to bear it.
"He will be so angry," continued Agnes. "O, I wish we had staid at
Borden's. Hadn't we better tell him now that we cannot go?"
"You can tell him for yourself, Agnes," and Ruth began removing the
dishes with as much haste as if she were eager to go.
"And you, Ruth?"
"I am going."
"Ruth, you certainly cannot mean it. Going to the theatre and you a
Christian, and this is the first day of the year. O, Ruth, remember
last night and your covenant." Her arms were round her sister now as
though she would hold her back from evil, but Ruth shook her off, and
ran hastily up stairs to the school-room. Locking the door, she walked
up and down the room, with hands tightly clasped and a face expressive
of the strongest conflict.
"Last night, and your covenant," yes, she remembered only too well. But
was not she right in this? Guy _would_ go to these places and he must
not go alone. Her sister was the best one to go with him. He could never
go wrong if she were with him. What was the use of praying that he might
become a Christian, and leaving him to go alone as he chose. No, she
would win him over. He should see that Christians did not have to attend
church and pray all the time, for that would make him dislike religion,
but that they were like other people, only better.
When all this was settled, she began her preparations tremblingly,
thinking how very plain her dress would be compared with the handsome
dresses, to be seen there, but determined to appear well for Guy's sake,
and not to let him know the struggle she had passed through.
As she left the school-room and ascended the short flight of stairs
leading to their bedroom, she heard Agnes and Guy talking.
"She is telling him," she said. "O, I wish I could be Agnes! but we are
differently constituted, and there are different requirements made of
us. Agnes does the praying, and I must make the efforts, the
sacrifices."
Yes, Agnes was telling her brother. She had not to reason as to what was
right or wrong in this case, having read that we are to shun every
appearance of evil, and to keep ourselves unspotted from the world. Her
heart beat fast, and her voice trembled, but not with indecision; for
her soul was strong in its purpose to do right at all cost as she
entered the room and said:
"Guy, I can't go to the theatre."
"What's the reason you can't?" was the surprised inquiry.
"Because our church does not allow it, and _I_ do not think it is a good
place."
"You don't! how do you know when you never were there? See here, Agnes,
don't be a simpleton. Where is Ruth? I'll be bound she'll go; she has
good sense and good taste. I saved up cigar money this week on purpose
to take you. Hurry now, or we shall not get good seats."
"I can't do wrong, Guy; I must not go;" and Agnes went out of the room,
back into the bright little kitchen where she had been so happy that
morning. She wanted to go to her own room, but Ruth was there.
Guy was angry, very angry, Agnes thought, from his voice as he spoke to
Ruth, but they passed out and she was alone.
[Illustration: Decoration]