MAY DAY.
It was months before Mabel could really be said to have regained her
health and strength. The dreary winter had passed away, and the tender
leaves, and blossoms of April, had put forth their signs of returning
spring.
It must not however be supposed that the cold and dark season had been
an unprofitable one; far from it. Though Mabel had been an occasional
sufferer, during all that time, she and Clara had diligently attended to
their studies, and had, Aunt Mary said, made rapid advance; while the
inward change which had been experienced by the invalid left no room for
regret either to herself or her friends.
Mabel knew and felt that she had been healed of a far worse malady than
any bodily one, and though, as in the case of rheumatic pains, hidden
evils still gave occasional inward spasms, she had learned at whose
hands she was to receive the healing draught, and she never failed to
apply for it in the hour of need.
I ought perhaps to have informed my readers, that soon after Mabel had
been taken ill, Mr. and Mrs. Maitland, with their two daughters, Dora
and Annie, had gone to spend the winter months in the west of England,
with that lady's mother, who was now far advanced in years, and very
desirous of having the company of this her last surviving child, and to
feel the cheering influence of lively girlhood in the society of her
truly loving and attentive granddaughters.
And now, as I have before said, the winter had gone, and dewy April,
with its smiles and tears, its soft green, tender leaves, its embryo
buds and blossoms, its morning salutations which blithe birds sang in
the half-clothed trees or in the air, made fragrant by the breath of
primrose pale, or violet blue, or polyanthus bright--yes, dewy April,
notwithstanding all these delights, was about to take its departure, in
order to make way for the pleasant month of May, whose praises Aunt Mary
celebrated in rhyme. Oak Villa was indeed a highly privileged home; no
young girl, whose mind was properly balanced, could have considered it
otherwise. Its owner was cheerful as the lark, industrious as the bee,
thoughtful and provident as the ant, benevolent as!--well, I won't liken
her to any of our four-footed friends; indeed, just at this moment, I
must confess that no comparison occurs to me: but Aunt Mary loved her
nieces, delighted to impart to them those stores of knowledge to which
she was herself constantly adding, and which a very retentive memory
enabled her to draw on for almost any occasion.
Master Freddy, who, in his visit to the truly happy home I have been
speaking of, had contrived to make himself as disagreeable as possible,
had been punished for his conduct by being prevented from going with his
sister Julia in her occasional visits to Oak Villa; this, of course, was
by papa's order, and the prohibition was almost as grievous to mamma as
it was to Freddy, but there was no redress. Julia had enjoyed many a
pleasant walk with her sister and cousin, and she was particularly fond
of going to see the poor people, especially Mrs. Simmons, whose husband
had in a great measure regained his strength, and was now able to do at
least some little towards the maintaining of his family. It had been
very dull at home for Julia, after her sister had gone to Oak Villa; but
she had her mamma to attend to, and to teach the children, though to say
the truth this latter was almost an impossibility where Freddy was
concerned, so he was often sent down to stay with mamma, being
pronounced incorrigible.
But May morning has come at last; it is Aunt Mary's birthday, and such a
lovely day! The cousins have a great deal of work to do before
breakfast-time: may-blossoms to gather, garlands to twine, vases to fill
with the sweet-scented early flowers, the breakfast-table to arrange
with the best possible taste. As to Bridget, she had the day before
been preparing for this special holiday; and even now she is very busy
with her hot cakes and buns, which bid fair to be of the very best
quality. Nine o'clock was the appointed hour for breakfast, and as Aunt
Mary was not permitted by the young decorators to see what had been done
in the way of preparation, it had been agreed that prayers were to be
read in her bedroom, where, at half-past eight, Clara and Mabel, and
Bridget, made their appearance; the former clasping Aunt Mary's neck,
kissing her, and offering their most sincere and loving good wishes, the
latter looking on the while, with no less kindly feeling, and with the
honest tears of a faithful and devoted heart in her eyes.
Punctually at nine, a cab drove up to the garden-gate of Oak Villa,
which Bridget stood ready to open, while Clara and Mabel waited at the
hall-door, to receive the joyful little party, and Aunt Mary formed the
background of the scene.
'How smart you are, Freddy,' remarked Clara, as she handed that young
gentleman out of the cab; 'why, I never saw you in that dress before.'
'We were kept waiting some time,' said his mamma, 'because he would not
have his other clothes on. I was afraid we should be too late, so I let
him have his own way.'
'As usual, my dear sister,' said Aunt Mary, smiling, as she kissed and
welcomed her sister. 'I'm afraid Freddy's light clothes will come to
grief before the day is over, but he must take care.'
'Oh, how beautifully you have set out the table!' was the general
exclamation as they all entered the breakfast-room together; and really,
it was a very imposing sight, and the juveniles thought a very
appetising sight, for ham, and eggs, and tongue, and chicken, and cakes,
and buns, make a strong appeal for their share of commendation, even
where the more delicate and refined tastes are attracted by beautiful
colours and delicious odours.
It is really a very pleasant party that sits round this well-appointed
table, though the kind and hospitable hostess regrets much that her
brother-in-law, Mr. Ellis, was not able to be of the company. Aunt Mary
knew who it was that kept order at home, and much, very much did she
wish that her sister would be guided by her husband in the management of
their children. But now there is nothing but bright looks and smiling
happy faces, if we except that of Master Fred, who is looking round at
the several dainties, apparently considering which he shall choose from
first.
Unfortunately for the peace of society, Aunt Mary helped Freddy to some
ham without being asked, and before that young gentleman had made up
his mind as to what he should choose. This was indeed a sad mistake,
though done without the slightest suspicion of giving offence; but the
offence was very quickly manifested.
'I didn't want ham,' said the rude boy, as he pushed his plate from him;
'I wanted some tongue.'
'That is not a proper way to speak, my dear,' said his aunt; 'and you
must eat what I have given you first, then you shall have some tongue.'
This was strange language to the wayward boy; he resented it by another
push of his plate, and leaning back in his chair with the determination
of a martyr.
Wonderful, he thought it, that no one at the breakfast-table, not even
mamma, took the slightest notice of him, or seemed to care whether he
had any breakfast or not. The fact was that a very significant look from
Aunt Mary had imposed silence upon mamma, and sisters, and cousins, and
the little ones were far too busy on their own account to give heed to
Freddy, who was quarrelling with his bread and butter. In short, neither
by word nor look had any effort been made to soothe the perturbed spirit
of the really hungry boy.
This state of things, however, was not to be endured; so thought Fred,
when, after waiting a considerable time, and casting furtive glances
around to see if there were any signs in his favour, but perceiving
none, he pushed his chair away from the table and rushed out of the
room, quite unable longer to suppress his passion or his tears. This was
the signal for Mrs. Ellis to remonstrate, which she had all along wished
to do.
'Really, Mary, you are too severe on the poor boy,' she began, but was
immediately, though kindly, silenced by Miss Livesay.
'Not now, if you please, dear,' said Aunt Mary; 'we will not discuss
this point before the juveniles, we will talk it over by-and-by. In the
meantime, Freddy has, I hear, gone into the garden, where he can amuse
himself without getting into mischief.'
The latter part of this speech might have been omitted with propriety,
but we must not forestall. The absence of the high-spirited young
gentleman did not seem at all to lessen the enjoyment of the little
people, who really behaved remarkably well, being for the most part
under the management of a good nursery-maid, except when they were
having their little lessons with Julia. Mrs. Ellis did not like the
trouble of children herself, but through her weak-mindedness she
certainly did what she could to make them a trouble to other people. The
breakfast-party were just on the eve of breaking up, when a violent
screaming in the back garden seemed to upset Aunt Mary's idea that
Freddy could not get into any mischief there, and soon the whole party
were in the back garden to ascertain the cause of the disturbance.
There, at the large rain-water barrel, covered with wet and dirt, yet
holding fast by the top, stood the unfortunate Fred, his face crimson
with fear and excitement, while he still tried with all his might to
turn back the tap which he had so unluckily loosened, and which now,
like himself, refused to submit to a weak hand, but was readily reduced
to order by a strong one; for Bridget was at the scene of action, and
set free the boy, now completely shamed, if not subdued, by having to
appear before the whole party as an object of commiseration, if not
ridicule.
Of course there were no boy's habiliments at Oak Villa, and Fred had to
undergo the further humiliation of being put into his sister's bed in
one of her nightdresses, while his own clothes were drying.
It must be confessed that a great reaction had taken place since the
cold water had been thrown on the fiery young spirit, for there had been
more than the mere wetting of the body. Fasting also had done its
beneficial work; the craving stomach seemed to be resisting the defiant
will. And when Freddy found himself quietly between the sheets, with
only his sister Mabel--who had brought some breakfast up--to witness his
humiliation, he very gladly, I might almost say thankfully, turned _to_
the tempting viands which he had so short a time ago turned _from_ with
disgust. Yes, the piece of ham was there, and this time it was not
pushed back; but there was no tongue, which had been desired and denied
before. Aunt Mary never did things by halves.
Here we will leave this graceless Freddy; he will have no lack of
amusement while his clothes are drying, for Mabel and Clara have brought
him books and pictures, and some old toys which had been put by: but
Aunt Mary insists that Freddy is to be left to himself, after she has
seen him, and kindly, but forcibly, shown him the foolishness, as well
as the wickedness, of indulging in pride and evil temper. After all, May
Day was at Oak Villa a very happy day to all who were there.