A GREAT DISAPPOINTMENT.
'Mamma dear,' said Dora Maitland, the eldest of that lady's two
daughters, a sweet gentle-looking girl about twelve years of age, 'may
Annie and I go and ask Mabel and Julia Ellis to take a walk with us this
afternoon? We are going to see John Hutton's beehives; he has got some
new glass ones, and he says it is so interesting to watch the little
creatures at work. I am sure we should all like to see them, and I do so
wish that Clara was here, to go with us, she is such a dear girl.'
While this request was making, Dora's younger sister, Annie, stood
looking with beseeching eyes at mamma, evidently very anxious for that
lady's reply, which was not immediately given, for Mrs. Maitland was
apparently debating in her own mind whether it were desirable, or not,
to attend to Dora's request.
'May we, mamma?' urged the young pleader timidly. 'You are not afraid to
let us go, are you?' she inquired.
'Oh no, not afraid,' replied Mrs. Maitland; 'at least, not afraid of
your going alone; but what I am afraid of is, that it may be
inconvenient to Mrs. Ellis to let your young friends accompany you, as
at present I know that their nurse is away, and--and she herself is not
at all well.'
'Then do you think, mamma, that we may ask Julia to go with us? We like
her best, and Mabel could stay at home and take care of the children, as
she is the eldest.'
'Not a bad suggestion, my dear Dora,' replied her mother, 'only I fear
there would be some objection on Mabel's part to such an arrangement.
From what I have observed in that young lady,' continued Mrs. Maitland,
'she is not very loving, nor very tractable, and I fear she has been
spoiled by over indulgence. However, if you will promise not to press
the matter, should you see that it is likely to be inconvenient to Mrs.
Ellis, you may go; it is a lovely afternoon, and I hope you will enjoy
yourselves.'
With light hearts and buoyant footsteps, the two fair girls set off on
their errand of inquiry to Camden Terrace, where Mr. Ellis resided,
meeting with a very kind reception from Mrs. Ellis, and a joyful
greeting from Mabel and Julia, who, to say the truth, were getting
rather tired of the monotony of home, especially as, the nursemaid
being away for a fortnight, and mamma not being well, they were under
the necessity of taking care of the children, if care it could be
called, where neither love nor forbearance were in exercise; but the
little ones were only prevented from doing mischief, or hurting each
other.
As the engagements of Mr. Ellis kept him from home all day, he had very
little time, and I am sorry to say that he had very little inclination,
to attend to his children, though we must do him the justice to say that
he _wished_ sincerely for their proper training; but he thought, as I
fear too many papas do, that this duty belonged exclusively to his wife.
This _we_ think is a grave mistake. Children cannot be taught too early
the lesson of obedience; and often it happens that the weakness or
tenderness of a mother prevents her from enforcing this very salutary
precept.
But I return to our young friends, who were under the necessity of
making their request in the presence of both Mabel and Julia, though
they had agreed between themselves not to do so, but to ask their mamma
alone, so that if it were inconvenient to her they would not press the
matter.
Without waiting for their mamma's answer, both the girls immediately
begged to be allowed to go, indeed using every entreaty, so that poor
Mrs. Ellis appeared quite distressed; and the young Maitlands were no
less so, for they remembered what their mamma had said to them.
'I really scarcely know what to do,' said Mrs. Ellis, at last; 'I should
be sorry to deprive you of any pleasure, but you know, Mabel, I am not
well, and nurse is not with us: besides which, your papa made a
particular request this morning that I would not let you go out to-day.'
'Oh, that is always the way with papa,' broke in Mabel, impetuously. 'I
believe he would never let us go even for a walk, if he were at home.'
'Hush, hush, Mabel!' said her mother; 'I wonder you are not ashamed to
speak of your papa in this disrespectful manner. Besides, you know that
you are not speaking the truth.'
'Don't let them go, Mrs. Ellis, if it is inconvenient to you,' said Dora
Maitland; 'we will call another day. I am sure mamma would be very sorry
to hear that our coming brought any trouble to you.'
'It is not a trouble, of course,' again broke in the impetuous Mabel,
without waiting her mamma's reply; 'and we shall be home long before
papa, so nothing need be said to him about our having been out.'
The two young visitors looked at each other, and appeared quite
distressed at this suggestion. They had been, and rightly so, taught to
consider deception of any kind as falsehood; but Mrs. Ellis did not
appear to be of the same opinion, and though she still urged her own ill
health and the absence of the nurse, she was evidently inclined to yield
to the continued and earnest request of her daughters.
'We will promise you not to be away more than an hour, dear mamma,' said
Julia, who was certainly the best of the two girls; and this promise
being seconded by Mabel very earnestly, poor Mrs. Ellis foolishly gave
her consent to their going, which consent had no sooner been obtained,
than the selfish girls darted off to make ready for their walk, leaving
Dora and Annie very much concerned about what had passed, and determined
in their own minds to forego the anticipated pleasure of seeing the
glass beehives till a more convenient season, for fear they should not
be back at the appointed time.
Mrs. Ellis, as I think I have before stated, had long been very
delicate; she was of a nervous temperament, and nothing appeared to
affect her health so much as excitement of any kind. She had been
ordered lately to be kept perfectly quiet, but this is one of those
rules that are more easily made than complied with by the mistress of a
house, and the mother of a family; and, unfortunately for Mrs. Ellis,
she had no strength of mind to aid her in the discharge of the duties
that devolved upon her, for she was weakly indulgent both to her
children, and her servants, and thus she was too often the slave of the
one, and the dupe of the other.
After the young people had set off for their walk, she sat down to
consider whether she had done right in letting them go; and remembering
her husband's prohibition, and the uncertainty of the time at which he
would return home, she evidently came to an unfavourable conclusion in
the matter, as she exclaimed aloud; 'I wish I had not let them go!'
Wishing, however, now, was of no avail, and as sundry screams from the
nursery betokened a misfortune of some kind, the bell was rung for the
cook to go, and ascertain the cause of the tumult. Fortunately, there
was no great harm done: poor little Willie had contrived to mount on two
boxes, which stood side by side, but not close enough together to
prevent the chubby fat legs from slipping between them; and as Freddy
and Gertrude in vain attempted to extricate the little fellow from his
awkward position, they set up a simultaneous scream in token of their
distress.
Kind-hearted Susan, however, soon set all to rights, for she was
well-known to carry in her pocket sundry mysterious little sweet balls,
which, if they were not over-clean, had a remarkable tendency to
soothe, insomuch that sagacious Master Fred, seeing his sister Mabel one
day crying with passion, inquired if he should go and ask Susan for one
of her sugar balls, to do her good; a proposition which that young lady
highly resented, though the very mention of the said sweets had stopped
the crying.
But we must return to poor mamma, who had in vain endeavoured to follow
Susan upstairs, she trembled so violently. When, however, Willie was
placed on her knee, and she saw the slight nature of the hurt he had
sustained, she began to feel more composed, for there was really no harm
done.
The poor lady, however, was not suffered to calm down thus easily, for
before Susan had time to quit the room, the sound of a key in the front
door betokened the dreaded return of her husband, and again excited all
her nervous fears.
'Why have you got the children with you, Ada?' said Mr. Ellis to his
wife, reproachfully. 'You know that the doctor has told you to keep
quiet.'
'Yes, I know,' replied Mrs. Ellis, meekly, 'but poor Willie has hurt his
leg, so Susan brought him down to me.'
'But what has Susan to do with the children?' inquired Mr. Ellis.
'Surely Mabel and Julia are quite old enough to take care of them,
without calling Susan from her work in the kitchen! Where are the
girls?' demanded Mr. Ellis, sharply; 'I hope you have not let them go
out after what I said this morning.'
'Mrs. Maitland's little girls came to ask them to take a walk, and I did
not like to refuse them,' said Mrs. Ellis, timidly.
'Then I can only tell you, Ada,' said her husband, with suppressed
passion, 'that by your foolish weakness you have deprived them of a
great pleasure. It is not often that I can spare time to go out with
them, but as I have had some tickets given me to go to a panorama, I
have, at great inconvenience, come home, in order to take them, and you
tell me that they are gone out.'
Poor Mrs. Ellis! This was a terrible mortification to her; she felt for
her husband, and she felt for the disappointment of the girls, though
they certainly deserved it.
'I am very sorry I let them go, dear Arthur,' she said, 'but they
pressed me so much that I did not like to refuse.'
'Yes, yes,' said Mr. Ellis, 'I know; it is the old story: you are too
weak-minded to refuse, and our children are to be ruined for want of
proper restraint, or else _I_ am to be appealed to in case of
punishment, and so must be considered by them harsh and unkind. I cannot
help saying that it is very cruel of you, Ada, to give way to this
nervous weakness of yours,' continued Mr. Ellis, as he saw the poor lady
begin to cry; 'the only way will be, I suppose, to send the girls to a
boarding-school, before you have quite spoiled them.'
Having thus delivered his opinion, Mr. Ellis walked out of the room; and
soon the rather violent shutting of the front door gave token that he
had left the house, to the really great sorrow of his wife, who now
heartily repented having given her consent to what had been the cause of
so much trouble. But we must leave her to repent at leisure, and follow
the gay young party, who, notwithstanding some few qualms of conscience
on their first setting out, soon found plenty to interest them in the
surrounding villas and gardens, where such diversity of taste is
displayed.