WHEN Nelly went to the store next morning, she had fully made up her
mind as to her duty, and was resolved, by God's help, to do it, let it
cost what it might. She remembered granny's words, "The blessing of God
shines on the straight path." She had found it true heretofore, and she
determined to be guided thereby.
It seemed for a while as if she were to have no occasion for putting
her resolution in practice. Miss Bartlett did not make her appearance
for some days; and when she did, though Nelly watched her closely, she
could detect nothing wrong; nor did she miss any thing afterwards.
Nelly drew a long sigh of relief and thankfulness. "Oh, I do hope she
will never do so again! I do hope she has thought better of it! It
would be so dreadful if I should have to tell Mrs. Kirkland!"
But Nelly was not to get rid of her trouble so easily. It was only a
few days before Miss Bartlett came again. A case of valuable fans was
on the counter, none of which had yet been sold. Miss Bartlett asked
for some coloured braid; and as Nelly turned to take it down from the
shelf, she distinctly saw in one of the mirror-panels which decorated
the store that Miss Bartlett took up a pearl-carved fan and slipped
it into her muff. She turned back to the counter. One of the fans
was certainly gone. Miss Bartlett glanced carelessly at the braid,
pronounced it perfectly hideous, and then, taking up the muff, she
turned and went up-stairs. The next moment Nelly had restored the fans
to their place and was speaking to Mrs. Kirkland at the desk. Her face
was very pale, and her voice trembled; but she did not hesitate.
"Mrs. Kirkland, that lady who has just gone up-stairs has taken one of
those pearl fans. I saw her put it in her muff when my back was turned."
"How could you see her when your back was turned?" asked Mrs. Kirkland,
laying down her work and looking sharply at Nelly, but without any of
that surprise which Nelly had expected.
"I saw her in the glass," answered Nelly, without hesitation.
"Have you ever seen her take things before?"
"I can't say that I ever saw her," said Nelly; "but I have been sure
for some time that she did take little things. She hardly ever comes
here without my missing something after she is gone. But this time I
saw her; and she has the fan now,—one of those twenty-dollar pearl fans
that Miss Powell said nobody would buy because they were so small and
so expensive."
"Miss Lennox," called Mrs. Kirkland, "come down-stairs at once, please.
I want you."
"Now, Nelly, come up-stairs with me; and be sure you know that you are
right."
"I am quite sure," said Nelly, firmly. "I could not be mistaken."
Mrs. Kirkland found Miss Bartlett standing by the worsted-table,
selecting shades of wool, as unconcerned as possible. But Nelly thought
she looked a little startled as they entered.
Mrs. Kirkland looked about to see that no strangers were present, and
then said to Miss Bartlett, quietly, but with marked emphasis, "Miss
Bartlett, I believe you have taken something which does not belong to
you." Miss Bartlett coloured and then turned pale, and made a movement
to take up her muff,—an unlucky movement, as it chanced; for it flirted
the large pink silk and silver tassels of the fan into plain sight, as
though the fan had determined not to be accessory to its own abduction.
Mrs. Kirkland laid her hand upon it.
"Yes, this is it," said she, looking the young lady steadily in the
face, as she took the fan from its place of concealment. "It is
fortunate that you did not drop it in the street."
Miss Bartlett gave an affected laugh; but Nelly observed that her hands
trembled so that she could not hold the worsted.
"I suppose I took it up with my pocket-handkerchief," said she. "Your
girl, here, keeps things in such a litter and confusion that it is no
wonder one should do such a thing. But I dare say she finds her own
account in having things upside down. It makes it all the easier for
her to help herself."
Nelly coloured high with indignation.
Mrs. Kirkland answered, quietly, "Nelly does not keep things in
confusion, neither does she help herself. I wish every one with whom I
deal were as strictly honest as she is."
"Dear me, Mrs. Kirkland!" exclaimed Miss Bartlett, with an appearance
of virtuous indignation, "you act as if you thought I meant to steal
the fan. Of course it was an accident."
"It was an awkward accident," said Mrs. Kirkland, dryly. "Unluckily, it
is not the first of the kind which has happened. I have a great respect
for your father, Miss Bartlett, and I should be sorry to be obliged to
apply to him; but I must do so if any more of these accidents happen."
"There is no danger of any accident happening to rue in your shop, Mrs.
Kirkland; for I shall never enter it again."
"So you said before," remarked Mrs. Kirkland.
"And I will take care that none of my acquaintances do so, either,"
continued the lady, disregarding the interruption. "You will rue the
day that you ever set that beggar's brat to watch and spy upon me. And
I will be revenged upon her, too. I dare say she steals from you all
the time. Indeed, I know she does. I have seen her slip things into her
pocket."
"There! I would not say any more, Miss Bartlett," interrupted Mrs.
Kirkland. "You do not mend matters. As for your not coming here
yourself, I certainly prefer that you should not do so: I am not fond
of such scenes; nor can I afford to be robbed. As to Nelly, I know her."
Miss Bartlett took up her muff, and flounced out of the shop without
any more words.
"You have done well, Nelly. I am pleased with you," said Mrs. Kirkland,
who was a woman of few words. "You have acted with great presence of
mind, and saved me from a serious loss. I shall not forget it. Don't
say any thing about the matter, my dear. I do not want the unfortunate
girl to fall into disgrace by my means. The trouble will come upon her
and her family soon enough."
"But she could not have taken it by accident, Mrs. Kirkland," said
Nelly. "I saw her take it out of the case and put it in her muff."
"No doubt she did. It is not the first scene of the sort I have had
with her; but I did hope she meant to do better. I have been watching
her for some time, however. Now go to work on Mrs. Sprague's afghan,
and finish one of the black stripes as quickly as you can, that I may
begin the embroidery. You need not be troubled about what Miss Bartlett
said," she added, seeing that Nelly still looked uncomfortable. "I know
her, and I know you."
With a most thankful spirit, Nelly began the black stripe; and most
earnestly did she resolve to be more and more careful to do her duty.
"Granny, you were right," said she, when she went home that evening.
"The blessing of God does shine on the straight path. I have found that
out to-day. I can't tell you how, because Mrs. Kirkland told me not;
but you don't know how I thank you for telling me that story the other
day."
"If she told you not to tell, you had better not say any thing about it
anyway, honey," said granny. "Sometimes a thing slips out unawares, and
when it's out it's like the smoke out of the chimney, dear,—it can't be
got in again."
"Well, I won't," said Nelly: "only, granny, I do want to say one thing;
for it has been on my mind all day. I used to grumble because you did
not give me an education; but you did give me an education in one way,
and of the best sort. You taught me to be honest, and never to touch
the least thing that did not belong to me. I should not be trusted as I
am now, only for you. Mrs. Kirkland said to-day she would trust me with
any thing in the shop. I feel as though I had been very ungrateful to
you, granny; but I do love you."
Nelly's voice faltered, and she could find no farther expression, save
by throwing her arms round the old woman's neck and hugging and kissing
her in true Irish fashion.
"Sure you was but a child; and one don't expect gray heads on young
shoulders," said granny, taking Nelly on her knee, as if she had been
still a baby. "And it's true for you, Nelly. Your granny hasn't always
done the right thing by you. But I think I have lived in a kind of
dream all my life, dear," she continued. "I have always been thinking
and thinking of going back to Ireland and being a great lady; but I'm
thinking I shall go to a better country first, my dear."
"You don't feel sick, do you, granny?" asked Nelly, anxiously.
"No, dear. I have my health wonderful for an old woman of seventy-four.
But yet I am old, you know; and, of course, I have not as long to live
as I had forty years ago; and it becomes me to be thinking about the
place where I am hoping to go."
"I think it is much pleasanter to think about going to heaven than
about going back to Ireland, because that is a thing one can be sure
about," said Nelly. "And one never can be sure about any thing in this
world, because, somehow, the most likely things are the very ones that
never happen."
"And have ye just found that out?" said the old woman, smiling at
Nelly's very Irish mode of stating the matter. "That's a discovery was
made some years before you were born or thought of, my Lady Eleanor.
But it's true, for all that; and a good thing it is to think of. And
glad and proud I am to see my Nelly trusted and honoured. So now put
away your work a while, and read me another chapter before I go to bed."
Nelly met with only one more serious trouble this year; and that came
through her old friend Kitty Brown. Kitty had been for a time rather
shy of Nelly. She had formerly found it very pleasant to have some one
to patronize; and she could not help feeling rather aggrieved that
Nelly had so soon mounted over her head, and was earning so much larger
wages than herself. She forgot, as girls are apt to do, that she was
receiving board as well as wages. She fancied that Nelly was "stuck
up" and looked down upon her (which certainly was not the case); and
in her own heart she magnified what she had done for her friend, and
denounced Nelly's ingratitude in bitter terms. But as Nelly continued
to treat her in exactly the same way as before, she by degrees dropped
her coldness and stiffness, and returned to her former friendly manner.
Mrs. Powers frequently sent her down town upon errands, and she fell
into the habit of running into Mrs. Kirkland's store to gossip with
Nelly and stare at the customers, thus wasting her own time as well as
that of her friend.
These visits made Nelly very uneasy. She was glad to see Kitty, and
glad to be friends with her again; but she did not think it a very
good plan so far as Kitty was concerned, and she was pretty sure Mrs.
Kirkland did not like it. Then, too, Kitty was somewhat inclined to
take liberties. She had never been taught to look at things with her
eyes and not with the ends of her fingers; and as she leaned upon the
counter or occupied one of the stools, she was apt to take up articles
and turn them over,—sometimes pretty roughly,—to open boxes, and even
drawers. All these things annoyed Nelly greatly, and all the more that
Kitty did not seem to have the least notion that she was doing any
thing out of the way.
"Don't, Kitty," said she, one day, as Kitty slipped behind the counter.
"Mrs. Kirkland does not like to have any one go behind the counter."
"I only just want to look at these pretty boxes," said Kitty, still
keeping her place. "I wonder how much they cost?"
"They are three dollars apiece for the small ones. But please don't
touch them, Kitty," she added, in an agony, as Kitty took one down.
"There!" she exclaimed, hastily, as Kitty nearly let the box fall.
"Please do come away."
"Just as though I should do any harm!" said Kitty, scornfully. "I am a
great deal more used to handling nice things than you are. My! What a
lovely doll! Does it open its eyes?"
"You must not touch the doll, Kitty," said Nelly, decidedly; "and you
must not go behind the counter. Mrs. Kirkland said so."
"She is not here: so what harm will it do?"
"That is the very reason," said Nelly. "Mrs. Kirkland has left me
in charge, and I am responsible," she added, with a touch of that
stately pride which was as natural to her as if she had been indeed the
high-born heiress of Kilmane Park. "I would no more do any thing wrong
when she was away than when she was looking on: I would be even more
careful."
"Oh, you are a great person, no doubt," said Kitty, scornfully; but as
she spoke she hastily restored the doll to its place and came out from
behind the counter, looking rather alarmed.
"I don't want to be a great person, but I want to do what is right,"
said Nelly. "And please, Kitty," she added, with some hesitation, "I
would rather you would not stay here while Mrs. Kirkland is away. She
does not like the girls to have visitors in the store."
"Oh, very well, Miss Nelly Ryan," said Kitty, her voice trembling with
anger. "I suppose that is the same as telling me that my room is better
than my company. You are a mighty great lady, to be sure. You did not
use to be quite so particular when you were carrying swill about the
street."
"And you did not use to be quite so fond of my company," thought Nelly;
but she did not say so. She turned to rearrange some matters on the
shelf, and, in doing so, she took up the doll Kitty had been handling,
and discovered the mischief that had been done: one of the arms had
been almost broken off.
"Oh, Kitty, just see what you have done!" she exclaimed. "You have
broken the doll. What shall I do?"
"I don't believe I broke it," said Kitty, colouring. "It was just so
when I took it up."
Nelly shook her head. "I was showing it to a lady just before you came
in, and it was all right then. Oh, how sorry I am! Now I shall have to
pay for it, and it is worth four dollars,—almost two weeks' work."
"I don't see what you have got to do with it," said Kitty. "You did not
break it."
"No, but you did," answered Nelly; "and Mrs. Kirkland will say I ought
not to have let you touch it. Just see now, what trouble you have got
me into."
"You needn't be so cross about it," said Kitty, angrily; "and you
needn't lay all the blame on me, either. I dare say you broke it
yourself, showing it to the lady. Besides, you needn't show it to her
the first minute."
"I must," said Nelly: "she always tells me to tell her the minute I do
any mischief."
"So does Mrs. Powers; but I don't always, by a great deal," said Kitty,
laughing. "I broke a notch out of one of those blue china plates they
make such a fuss over, and I put it away at the bottom of the pile,
with the notch towards the wall; and Mrs. Powers has not found it out
yet."
"But Kitty, that don't seem right to me. It isn't honest."
"Pshaw! You are wonderfully particular, all at once. How long since you
felt so?"
"I always felt so," said Nelly. "Granny always told me—"
"Oh, you are a great saint," interrupted Kitty. "Of course you never do
any thing wrong. Saints never do; they are always right; and the people
who have done for them and taught them all they know, and helped them
on when they hadn't anybody else to care for them, are wicked sinners.
That's always the way with saints. For my part, I hate hypocrites."
"So do I," said Nelly, "and I don't mean to be one, either; and so I
intend to tell Mrs. Kirkland about the doll the very first minute she
comes in. She will blame me, I know, but I can't help it; and it will
cost me almost two weeks' wages; but I can't help that either. I must
say, Kitty, I think you did wrong about the plate. Suppose Mrs. Powers
finds the notch, as she is sure to do some time, and asks you about it:
what will you do?"
"I sha'n't borrow trouble about that," said Kitty. "Something will turn
up."
"You will have to tell the truth, or else tell a lie," pursued Nelly.
"If you tell the truth, she will be a great deal more angry with you
for trying to hide it, than if she had known it at first; and if you
are tempted to tell a lie—oh, Kitty, just think if you should!"
"Oh, pshaw! What a fuss all about nothing!" said Kitty. "I dare say
you can tell fibs when it suits your purpose. But I must go. Good-by,
Nelly; I hope Mrs. Kirkland won't turn you out of the store for
breaking the doll." And away Kitty ran, leaving Nelly to reflect upon
her words.
Suppose she should lose her place. It was possible; Miss Lennox had
been dismissed only the week before, for disobeying rules; and Mrs.
Kirkland had declared then that she could not keep any girl who would
not do as she was told. She did not see how she could have kept Kitty
away from the shelves, except by main force; but then she might have
told her before that she did not like to have people coming to see
her. Suppose she should let Mrs. Kirkland think that the lady who had
looked at the doll had injured it. It Was just possible, after all.
Things were often injured in that way,—no one knew how. Only yesterday,
a morocco shopping-bag had been found with the lock broken, and no one
could tell who did it. Suppose she should just say nothing about it,
but leave it to be found as the bag had been.
The temptation was a strong one,—the strongest that had ever assailed
Nelly in all her life. The thought of losing her place was dreadful to
her. How could she now go back to the old life,—to watching Crummie
all day and going about after slops, as she had done before? What
would granny say? What would the neighbours say? What would become of
her cherished plan of paying for their house and lot out of her own
earnings?
It was a terrible temptation, a fearful struggle; but Nelly was not
left to fight her battle alone: there stood by her One whom she saw
not,—One whose eye is always upon those who in faith and patience are
striving to follow and serve him. That Holy Spirit, for which she had
prayed in faith that very morning, came to her help, and enabled her to
pray again for grace to resist temptation; and He, without whom not a
sparrow falls to the ground, sent her assistance in her hour of trial.
"I will do right," said Nelly; "I will keep the straight path, whatever
happens."
Nelly leaned both her arms on the counter and buried her face in her
hands for a moment. She was so absorbed that she did not hear the
shop-door open, and she started as if she had been shot when somebody
spoke to her.
"What, Nelly! asleep over your work! Is that the way you attend to your
customers?"
"Oh, Mr. Grayson!" Nelly raised her head with a smile. There were tears
in her eyes, and she was rather pale; but her face had a quiet and
resolved expression.
"What! crying?" said the old gentleman. "Nay, that is worse than going
to sleep."
"I am not going to cry," said Nelly, brushing away the drops; "only
something troubled me; that's all."
"Troubled you! You have no business to have any troubles!" said Mr.
Grayson, gruffly. "When you are as old as I am, you may talk of
troubles. What can happen to trouble such a little shrimp as you? Come,
tell me all about it, and I'll advise you for nothing. When folks come
to my office for advice, I charge 'em a big price for it; but you and I
are old friends, Nelly. What's the matter?"
Mr. Grayson's voice softened, as he said these words, and his manner
was very gentle. Nelly felt attracted towards him and disposed to
confide in him.
"I don't know as I need any advice," said she, smiling frankly,
"because I have made up my mind."
"Well, but don't you know that is the very time? Half the people I see
make up their minds first and ask advice afterwards," said Mr. Grayson.
"I suppose they want to be advised to take their own way," said Nelly.
Mr. Grayson laughed. "You are a shrewd one, Nelly. But come, now; tell
me the trouble."
Nelly told the story, blaming Kitty as little as she possibly could.
"Oho!" said Mr. Grayson, rubbing his glasses. "And now what are you
going to do about it, Nelly?"
"I am going to tell the truth," said Nelly, with emphasis, and falling
back into her Irish, as she was apt to do when excited. "Sure my granny
said the blessing of God shone on the straight path; and I believe it's
true, sir."
"It is true; stick to that, Nelly," said Mr. Grayson, with emphasis.
"But what were you crying about, my girl?"
"I don't know but I shall lose my place," said Nelly, the tears coming
up again. "Miss Lennox was sent away, last week, for not keeping rules;
and it is against orders for the girls to have their friends come to
see them in the shop."
"Oho! so then I am breaking rules, too? I must buy something and become
a customer, or I shall be getting you into another scrape. And so you
cried because you thought you should lose your place? Was that all?"
"No, sir," said Nelly, hanging down her head and becoming at once very
busy with her crochet-needle; "it was because—because I was tempted to
tell a lie." Nelly fairly broke down, and cried heartily. Mr. Grayson
coughed, blew his nose, and took a pinch of snuff.
"Don't do it, my child. Never do that, whatever happens. Look here,
Nelly: I am an old man, and have seen a great many young men set out in
life, with more or less bright prospects,—some of them very talented,
some with only moderate abilities. I have seen some of them succeed
and become respected, and others go to ruin and drag their friends
down with them. But I have always seen this: the men who are perfectly
honest and upright,—who are faithful to their work and to their word,
honest in small things as well as great, not serving with eye-service,
but having their employer's interest at heart as much in his absence
as in his presence,—such young men invariably get on and do well, even
with a very moderate amount of talent; while those of an opposite
character, sooner or later, fall to the ground. Depend upon it, honesty
is the best policy, even as regards this world. Mistress Kirkland,"
he added, turning to that lady as she entered the shop, "I have been
giving Miss Nelly a lecture,—not exactly a lecture, either, but the
benefit of my experience as respects honesty."
"Nelly needs it less than a good many other people we know, Mr.
Grayson," replied Mrs. Kirkland. "I am happy to be able to say, with
truth, that I have found her a very faithful, honest girl. You may
guess that I have confidence in her, by my leaving her alone in the
shop so long."
"Oh, if I had made up my mind to deceive her," thought Nelly, "how I
should feel!"
"But now I must buy something, or I shall be breaking your rules,"
continued the old gentleman. "Nelly says you do not allow your girls
to have visitors in the shop; so I have no choice but to become a
customer."
"I have been obliged to make such a rule," said Mrs. Kirkland. "It may
seem rather hard, and of course it does not apply to you; but I have
had so much trouble that I found it the best way to forbid all visiting
in business hours."
"Quite right. Idle people are a great trouble to busy ones, and
they are always in mischief;—eh, Nelly? But come; show me some of
those beautiful, useless little work-boxes. I must buy my daughter a
Christmas present, I suppose; and the more senseless it is, the better
she will like it, of course. That's the way with girls;—eh, Nelly?"
Mr. Grayson made a great deal of talk about the work-boxes, trying to
beat Nelly down in the price, and ended by buying the most expensive
of the whole,—as well as the very pearl fan Nelly had saved from being
stolen. Then, bidding her come to his office when she went home, and
he would send granny some more tobacco, he took his leave. He was no
sooner gone than Nelly hastened to tell Mrs. Kirkland the whole story.
"You see now, Nelly, the use of the rule I made about visitors," said
Mrs. Kirkland. "You say you could not help Kitty's going behind the
counter, and I dare say that is true; but she has done the mischief,
and might have done a great deal more, and you are responsible."
"Yes, I know," said Nelly: "it will have to come out of my wages, of
course. I was afraid you would send me away, as you did Miss Lennox."
Mrs. Kirkland smiled. "You need not be afraid, Nelly. I should not
send you away in a hurry for any mishap that you were honest enough to
tell me of. Neither did I dismiss Miss Lennox for any one violation
of rules, but because I could not depend upon her in any thing. She
did nothing thoroughly; and if I trusted her to finish the least thing
by herself, I was sure to be disappointed. She did well enough when I
was looking at her; but the moment my back was turned she neglected my
interests and thought only of pleasing herself. I bore with her longer
than I should have done, because I was sorry for her mother and elder
sisters, who are hardworking and very poor. Now she is back upon their
hands again, in the middle of winter, with nothing to do. I am sorry
for them, as I said; but I cannot help it."
"The doll is marked four dollars," said Nelly. "You will have to take
it out of my wages."
"Oh, the doll can be mended easily enough; it only wants a little glue.
I am glad it is no worse. But Nelly, if Kitty comes again, and I am
here; just tell me. I want to speak to her."
"She did not mean any harm," said Nelly, desirous to screen her friend.
"No: I dare say not. Most of the mischief in the world is done by
people who don't mean any harm."
"I shouldn't have said any thing about her," continued Nelly, "only I
didn't see how I was to tell the truth without. I hate telling tales.
It seems so mean."
"Nothing can be meaner than telling tales for the sake of making
mischief," said Mrs. Kirkland. "It is almost or quite as bad as lying,
and always leads to it. I hope you will never do that. But you were
quite correct in telling me the whole truth; and Kitty has no right to
complain of you for doing so. The meanness was in herself, in running
away and leaving you to bear the blame. She will surely get into
trouble if she acts in that way."
"I am afraid she will; and I should be real sorry; for Kitty is a very
good girl in some things," said Nelly. "She has been very kind to me.
Please, Mrs. Kirkland, don't find fault with her about the doll. I will
tell her, if she comes again, that she mustn't stay."
"Very well, Nelly. I will say nothing about the matter, since you
desire it. Only, remember, she must not come again unless she has an
errand. It is wrong in two ways. It is wasting your time, which is
mine; and it is wasting her time, which belongs to Mrs. Powers."
"There is one thing I can't understand," said Nelly, presently. "When
Kitty gets angry at me, she always says, 'Oh, you are a great saint! I
don't pretend to be a saint.' I thought saints meant good people. I am
sure that is what the word means in the Bible."
"You are quite right, Nelly. You ought to be a saint; and there is no
reason why you should not be one. A saint is a holy person, one who
strives to serve God in all things, and to avoid every thing that is
evil. All God's people are 'called to be saints.' But because some
people have pretended to be saints who were not, therefore foolish
persons like Kitty use the word as a term of reproach. Their own
consciences condemn them for not trying to do the will of God, and
they like to excuse themselves by thinking that all who strive to live
strict and holy lives are hypocrites. I don't say this is the case
with all,—even all who know themselves to be sinners. I have seen very
wicked men who seemed glad that their wives and daughters were true
Christians. But it is often the case. Never mind, Nelly. You are called
to be a saint. God desires that you should be one: 'This is the will of
God, even your sanctification.' And he is as ready to give his grace
and his Spirit to you as to the greatest apostle or martyr that ever
lived. Mind, I don't say you can ever be as useful as St. Peter or as,
wise as St. Paul; but I don't know any reason why you should not be as
holy as either of them."