A CATASTROPHE.
It was not a very pleasant trio that sat at the table the morning after
the visit to the cottage. If Mabel had disliked the coarse work on which
she had been employed the day before, her repugnance to the examination
to which she was subjected by Aunt Mary, in order to test the
capabilities of her niece, and to find out what lessons would be most
appropriate for her, showed itself so plainly in fits of sullenness, or
tears of vexation, that even Miss Livesay herself could not help
feeling-dispirited; while Clara, though she tried to think only of her
lessons, felt very much disposed to shed tears on her aunt's account.
More than once, indeed, a subdued expression of rage escaped from the
irritated Mabel; but it was so instantly and authoritatively checked by
her aunt, that Mabel was made to feel that it would be useless for her
to contend: so she sat and pored over her book in sullen silence.
This lasted until near dinner-time, so that the results of this
morning's work, so far as Mabel was concerned, had been anything but
satisfactory when the books were put away; and it was with very painful
feelings that Miss Livesay contemplated not only the drudgery she would
be subjected to, in having to go through _early lessons_ with this
refractory niece of hers (who was far, very far behind both Clara and
the Maitlands in her learning), but the conflict she was likely to
encounter with pride and obstinacy, evils she never before had to
contend with.
Aunt Mary, however, was not one to give way to despondency, and at the
dinner-table she had resumed all her usual cheerfulness; nor did she
make the least difference in her manners to her nieces, but chatted with
them both, as if nothing had occurred to disturb her serenity.
The mornings at Oak Villa were always devoted to lessons; in the
afternoon there were two hours spent in work and reading; then the day's
duties were finished, if we except the looking over the lessons for the
following day, which Clara never omitted doing. And on this day she had
a scheme in her head, both for doing Mabel good, and saving her dear
aunt trouble.
In short, she determined, if possible, to induce her cousin to exert
herself in learning extra lessons, in order to overtake the young
Maitlands and herself.
She thought, perhaps, that the very pride in the young girl's
composition would aid her in this task, and in this she was not
mistaken. Mabel this afternoon was permitted to do some of the work she
had brought from home; and what with this indulgence, and the clever and
amusing book her aunt had been reading to them, she had quite recovered
her spirits, and was as lively and cheerful as possible.
'Isn't it time to feed the fowls, Clara?' inquired Mabel, when work and
books were laid aside.
'Yes, dear, it is,' replied her cousin; 'but I should be obliged if you
would feed them for me to-day, as Aunt Mary wants me to write a letter
to dear mamma before post-time.'
'Oh, I shall be glad to do so, very glad!' said Mabel, who had her own
motives for the alacrity she displayed.
'Must I ask Bridget for the corn?' she inquired.
'I dare say you will find it set ready on the kitchen table; Bridget
never forgets,' said Clara, as she arranged her desk and writing
materials.
Mabel ran off in great glee, and was soon busily engaged in her very
agreeable task; yet in spite of her endeavours, she found that it was
impossible to give satisfaction to all her feathered friends. Some were
too greedy, and would insist upon having more than their share, while
others were not courageous enough to stand up for their rights, and so
were easily repulsed, and came very badly off in the general scramble,
notwithstanding Mabel's spirited attempts to make an equitable
distribution. At last she got tired of trying to teach manners to the
cock and hens, so she went to look after the pets, as she called the
chickens. These, as we have before stated, had with their mother a
separate establishment, and so they were permitted to peck their grains
in peace, being in no danger of losing their share; though even among
these tiny things there were contentions for a single grain, which
perhaps three or four would strive after. As Mabel stood watching and
admiring the little downy creatures, the desire came strongly over her,
as it had done before, to take one up in her hand.
'What harm could I do the little creature by just holding it in my hand
for a minute?' said Mabel. 'And as to the old hen pecking at me, I don't
care for that; and I dare say,' she added, 'Clara only told me this to
frighten me.'
As Mabel made this very unjust remark concerning her cousin, she opened
the small door in the wire-work, and put her hand in to seize one of the
chicks; but she was saluted with such a terribly hard peck from Dame
Netty, that, had she not been very determined in the matter, she would
have let the little chick go. Unfortunately for the little creature, her
captor was very determined, and in spite of the hard peck, and the
struggles of the bird, she took it out, and was in the act of shutting
to the door, when the soft trembling thing slipped out of her hand, and
fluttered away to its own destruction.
Yes, there on the wall, slyly watching all that had been going on, and
with as great a desire after the chicken as Mabel herself had, though
for a vastly different purpose, sat the fine sleek cat, to whom my young
readers have before been introduced, and quick as lightning she pounced
down upon the poor chick, and carried it off.
This was a terrible catastrophe, and Mabel stood for a moment in bitter
dismay; she did not know what to do--how should she? The cat had
disappeared, and by this time the poor chicken was killed, and perhaps
eaten. Should she tell Clara? no, that would never do, for it would be
sure to come to Aunt Mary's ears. It was not the first scrape that Mabel
had got into, and we are sorry to add got out of by dissimulation; and
now, after a little further consideration, she came to the unwise
conclusion that it would be better to say nothing about the matter.
After all, it was only one chick out of twelve; it perhaps would not be
missed. And though she was sorry that the poor little thing had been
killed, she solaced herself with the idea that there would soon be a
fresh brood to attract her cousin's attention.
Comforting herself with this idea, she walked into the dining-room,
where she found the tea ready, and was soon joined by her aunt and
cousin, who had finished their correspondence, and were now at liberty
to take their evening walk as soon as the pleasant meal was ended.