THE LOST BROOCH.
It was a lovely afternoon in the beginning of August. Some few fleecy
clouds occasionally intercepted the rather too warm beams of the sun,
from which our young friends intended to take shelter under the trees in
the Regent's Park; for Dora and Annie Maitland had wisely determined
not to mention Thomas Hutton and his glass beehives after what they had
seen and heard at Camden Terrace, for they well knew that it would be
impossible to walk that distance, and back again, in an hour.
'I have a beautiful book that my papa gave me yesterday,' said Dora
Maitland; 'I thought you would like to see it, so I brought it with me.
We can look at it while we sit to rest in the Park.'
'Oh yes, that will be delightful,' said Mabel; but she almost
immediately added, 'I think I would rather look at the gay dresses of
the ladies; we can look at books when we are at home.'
'Mabel is always talking about dress,' said her sister, laughing. 'I'm
sure I don't care how I am dressed, if I am only clean and neat; it is
such a trouble to be afraid of spoiling what one has on.'
Julia's opinion was echoed by Dora and Annie Maitland, so Mabel found
she had no seconder; and they tripped along silently until they arrived
at the desired spot for resting, a nice seat under the shade of a large
tree. Here they were just going to seat themselves, when an exclamation
from Mabel attracted the attention of the others, who inquired eagerly
what was the matter.
'Oh, the brooch--mamma's beautiful brooch!' said the excited girl, in
great distress; 'it is gone out of my necktie. Oh, what shall I do? what
shall I do? It is mamma's favourite brooch; the one that papa gave her
many years ago. Oh, I cannot go home without it!' continued Mabel, in a
state of great distress.
'How could you be so foolish as to put it on, when you were only going
for a country walk?' said Dora Maitland.
'I can't think why you should wear your mamma's brooch at all,' remarked
Annie, 'unless she gave you leave.'
'But mamma did not give her leave; mamma has forbidden us to wear it,'
said Julia, 'and I begged Mabel not to put it into her necktie to-day,
for fear she should lose it; but she would do it, and now all our
pleasure is spoilt.'
'You need not talk in that way,' angrily retorted her sister; 'you are
fond enough of putting on mamma's gold chain when she leaves it out of
the box, though she has often told you not to do so.'
'Hush, hush!' said Dora Maitland; 'quarrelling won't find the brooch;
and see, there are a lady and gentleman coming toward us. Let us return
home at once, the same way that we came: there were not many people on
the road, and if we all look diligently we may find it, though I am much
afraid that we shall not.'
This advice seemed the best that could be adopted by the young party,
and they turned their steps homewards in no very enviable state of
mind. There had been, indeed, much to damp the spirits, and prevent the
enjoyment of this afternoon's walk. It is true that all around was
beautiful, but that little monitor within, which insists upon being
heard whether it is attended to or not, had acted like a thorn in the
flesh to Mabel and Julia: and though Dora and Annie Maitland had nothing
really to reproach themselves with, yet they could not forget the pale
face of poor Mrs. Ellis, and her words of remonstrance to her selfish
children seemed still to sound in their ears; and now they were
returning home with a fresh trouble to the invalid lady.
Dora's beautiful book, which had been presented to her by her papa as a
reward for her kind and dutiful attention to him, when he was suffering
severely for some days from nervous headache, had of course not been
thought of; the brooch, the unfortunate brooch, engrossed every faculty;
yet with all the search, and research, it was not found, and the young
people took a dolorous leave of each other, and repaired to their
respective homes.
'Now don't you say a word about the brooch to mamma to-night,' said
Mabel to her sister; 'I dare say it will be found, and it is no use
teasing her about it, now she is poorly.
'Mamma is sure to miss the brooch off the dressing-table in the
morning,' replied Julia; 'and if I am spoken to about it, I am not
going to tell a story, Mabel.'
'Who wants you to tell a story?' exclaimed Mabel, sharply. 'I know you
are always very ready to tell tales, when it would be much better for
you to hold your tongue.'
'You always go on in that way when you are vexed about anything,'
replied Julia. 'I'm sure I wish we had not gone for a walk; we have had
no pleasure, all because you would try to make yourself look smart. You
know, I begged of you not to put on the brooch, but, as papa says, you
are so wilful!'
'You have no right to repeat what papa says. Better look at your own
faults than talk about mine,' cried the angry girl, as she opened the
garden-gate that led to the back door of their residence.
Freddy was looking out of the window, but Mabel took no notice of him,
but ran straight upstairs to her own bedroom, to take off her things and
examine minutely her dress, if happily the missing brooch might have
slipped down into her bosom.
Julia, however, went to inquire how her mamma was, and therefore was the
first to hear the dismal tidings that papa had come home on purpose to
take his daughters to a place of entertainment, but finding they were
not at home, had gone out again very angry, without eating any dinner.
This, though it put the finishing stroke to that day's disaster, poor
Julia knew would not be an end to the troubles they would have to
encounter; for though indeed she was innocent of blame with regard to
the brooch, she felt she had acted selfishly in leaving her mamma with
the children, when she saw how tired and poorly Mrs. Ellis appeared to
be.
'I am very sorry, dear mamma,' said Julia, 'that you have been so
troubled with the children; I hoped that Susan would have minded them
while we were out.'
'Well, go now and take off your things, my dear,' replied Mrs. Ellis;
'then you and Mabel can have tea in the nursery with the children, while
I rest on the sofa.'
'Yes, dear mamma; they shall go with me at once,' said Julia. 'Come,
Freddy; come, Gerty; and come, little Willie,' she added, as she took
the chubby hand in her own, and was leading him away, when her mamma
said, 'Mind you don't hurt his poor leg, Julia, for he has fallen and
scraped the skin off.'
'Oh, poor boy!' said his sister, as she took Willie up in her arms; 'let
us go and put a "passer" on it.' This was always what the little fellow
called out for, when he hurt himself: 'Oh, put a "passer" on--put a
"passer" on!'
Mabel was very glad when Julia brought up the children, and told her
that their mamma was lying down on the sofa, for she had no wish to talk
just then with anybody. She felt indeed much disquieted, but what her
feelings were when her sister related the circumstance of their papa's
coming home, on purpose to take them to a place of amusement, may be
more easily imagined then described; and yet we fear that self-reproach
did not, in the smallest degree, mingle with their feelings, so little
do some people know of _self_.