universally pronounced to be "splendid." On the very top of a broad,
flat rock lay a pool of water (fresh water this; the waves seldom
washed so high even in the most furious of storms), it collected here
from the rains and dew and fogs, and but rarely dried up. Just now
it was unusually full, and the most unaccommodating of nurses could
scarcely have refused permission to make the most of such a delightful
sheet of water. All four of our young friends and two other little
girls, named Alice and Julia Gordon, who had been invited to join
them, were soon busily at work.
Lily produced, from the depths of her pocket, some tiny dolls "made
to be drowned and upset and such misfortunes," and the boats being
launched, these unfortunate passengers were speedily consigned to the
probable fate which awaited them.
Ah, such a fate! Spite of the smiling, sunny face of that miniature
sea, what "horrible accidents" and "shocking disasters" took place
thereon! what storms arose, caused by the violent stirring up of its
waters with whirling of sticks and splashing of stones! how those
gallant vessels ran into one another, turned bottom upwards, lost masts
and rudders! how they spilled their passengers, who were saved only to
be sent forth on another perilous voyage!
By and by it was decided to build a pier,--a breakwater where the
distressed vessels might run for shelter now and then; and all
proceeded to hunt up small stones and pebbles for the structure.
Away went Lily, springing up here and down there, across rifts and
chasms, swinging herself lightly from ridge to ridge, peering into
holes and clefts, and, whenever she found a stone suitable for her
purpose, passing it on to her less venturesome companions. Coming
round a corner of the rock, she found Belle standing alone, and gazing
thoughtfully over the blue waters of the sea.
"Why, Belle!" she exclaimed, "what are you thinking of so solemnly? Why
don't you pick up stones?"
"I was thinking about Mamie," answered Belle. "Lily, I believe she
wants to be good, but she don't quite know how to set about it."
"Oh, ho! and I s'pose you want to take pattern by Maggie and Bessie,
and help her, do you?" said Lily, going down on her hands and knees,
and thrusting her arm into a cleft where she spied a suitable stone.
"I'd like to, but I don't know how very well," said Belle; "and it was
not that I was thinking about so much. I was just wishing Maggie was
here to give me a proverb to make a proverb-picture out of. Lily, do
you know of one about a breakwater?"
"No," answered Lily, giving a violent tug to the stone which refused
to be dislodged from its position,--"oh! you obstinate old thing, come
out,--no, I don't, Belle. But why do you want one about a breakwater?"
"'Cause I think Mamie feels very naughty to her mamma about it,"
answered Belle. "She keeps saying how mean it is in her not to say she
can go, and calls her foolish and stupid; and she says she will coax
her papa to take her. And you know she ought not to talk so about her
mother, even if she is--Lily, do you think Mrs. Stone is a very wise
mamma to Mamie?"
"Wise!" repeated Lily. "I should think not! There! why did you not
come before, when you had to come?"--this to the stone, which she had
at length succeeded in bringing up; then again to Belle,--"Belle, I
think she's just about the foolishest mother I ever did see. Augh! if
my mamma was so foolish as that, I should be too ashamed of her for
any thing;" and Lily sprung to her feet, and flourished her stone in
the air as if to give emphasis to her opinion. "But I'll tell you,
Belle; I have a very good idea. I think we could manage to give Mamie
a lesson without offending her, and just pretending it's all play.
As soon as our breakwater is finished, we'll have a game about a
disobedient child,--no, ever so many children, so Mamie won't think
we mean her,--ever so many disobedient children who went on it when
their mothers did not want them to, and were very severely punished by
terrible things which happened to them. Don't you think that would do?"
"Well, yes," answered Belle, rather doubtfully, for Lily's attempts at
moral teaching were apt to be more personal than agreeable, and to give
offence where she did not intend it; "but you'll have to be very sure
Mamie don't think we mean it for a hint to her, Lily; else she'll be
mad."
"Oh, yes! we'll be careful," said Lily; and, secure of the success of
her plan, she ran back to the pool, followed by Belle.
Meanwhile Mamie and Mabel had been busily at work raising the
breakwater which was now nearly finished, and enough stones having been
gathered, Lily also lent a hand to its completion; while Belle, feeling
rather tired, sat quietly by, looking on.
"I wish I had my magnet swans and fishes up here," said Alice Gordon;
"would not this be a nice place to swim them!"
"Yes," said Belle; "and wouldn't it be fun if we had some of the new
little _ducklies_ here to teach them to swim!"
"Duck-ly-_ings_, they are called," said Lily, jamming down a refractory
stone which, as she said, would not "stay _put_" and thereby spattering
the water over herself and her playmates. But no one minded such a
trifle as that. Builders of breakwaters cannot always expect to keep
quite dry.
"I thought Tom called them _ducklies_," said little Belle.
"_Ings_--lyings--duck--ly--ings," repeated Lily with emphasis. "Yes,
indeed, it would be too cunning and funny to have them here, and teach
them to swim. This would make just about a big enough pond for them."
"Let's bring one to-morrow," said Mabel.
"Mrs. Clark wouldn't let us," said Lily. "She's an awfully cross old
patch."
"Let's take one without asking her then," said Mabel. "We can put it
back all safe, and she'll never know it."
"That would be very naughty, though," said Belle.
"And God would see, if Mrs. Clark didn't," said Mamie. "Mabel, you
forget 'the eyes of the Lord are in every place.'"
"See here," said Lily, who had just put the last stone upon the
miniature pier, and then plumped herself down upon the rock beside
Belle,--"see here, Mamie; it seems to me you're getting rather intimate
with the Lord."
"I'm not," said Mamie resentfully; for she had felt rather grand when
she made her speech to Mabel, and did not like to have her weapons
turned upon herself. "We ought to remember God sees us all the time."
"Course we ought," returned Lily; "but then I don't b'lieve it's proper
to talk about it in that familiar kind of a way--so--so--well, I don't
know exactly how to tell it, but as if the Lord was not any thing so
very great, you know," and Lily's voice took a graver tone. "He hears
us all the time, too, and we ought to be a little careful how we speak
about Him in our play."
"He sees us and hears us now, just this very minute; don't He?" said
Belle thoughtfully.
A moment's silence fell upon the little group as to one and all came
the solemn recollection of the Almighty presence here among them; a
silence broken, of course, by Lily, who, turning again to Mamie, said,
"It's very nice of you, Mamie, certainly, to try to remember that text
of yours all the time; but then I mean we ought to think a little more
soberly, and speak a little more piously about it; or it's not likely
to do us much good. Now let's play."
The proposed play was successfully carried out, both Lily and Belle
being careful to avoid looking at Mamie during its performance lest
she should guess that it was intended expressly for her benefit, take
offence, and so fail to profit by it.
Nevertheless, Mamie had her own doubts on the subject; and, as the play
progressed, withdrew from any active share in it, sitting down and
watching the others with a solemn countenance.
The truth was that her conscience was not at rest; not that she planned
any deliberate disobedience, but she knew that she was cherishing
rebellious and undutiful feelings in her heart, because she would not
make up her mind to give up, without farther murmuring and teasing, the
pleasure her mother had forbidden.
The oft-shipwrecked and oft-rescued rag dolls, now in a most distressed
and bedraggled condition, as became their various misfortunes, were
supposed to be a family of children seized with an uncontrollable
desire to go upon the breakwater in spite of the commands of their
parents that they should keep away from it. One after another yielded
to the temptation, and all met with the most disastrous fates. Two
were swept away by an uncommonly high wave sent for the purpose, and,
as they were carried into the depths of the sea, raised pitiful voices
to their comrades, crying, "Be warned by us! depart from disobedience,
and be warned by us!" A part of the pier gave way with others,
precipitating them into the briny deep; another child fell through a
hole, and became wedged in between the stones, "where she had to stay
all the rest of her life, and grew up there, but never got out, and had
a horrid time." In short, some terrible but well-deserved catastrophe
overtook each one, till the whole family were destroyed.
"That's not a bit real," said Mamie, in a tone of great
dissatisfaction, when the last survivor had been disposed of. "I know
children _don't_ usually be drowned and squeezed up in stones just
because they go on breakwaters."
"No," said Belle, "not _usually_; but then they might be, you know.
Accidents _sometimes_ happen, 'specially if people don't mind."
"Children don't _usually_ be ate up by bears," said Lily; "but the
Elisha children were; and I don't s'pose they expected the bears at
all. So that shows punishments may come to us that we never thought
about, besides the punishment of a very bad conscience."
Lily had said "we" and "us" lest Mamie should feel that she intended a
particular thrust at her; but as she spoke the last words, she could
not refrain from giving a sidelong glance to see if her moral lesson
were taking a proper effect, and Mamie caught it, and it increased her
suspicion that she was to receive a reproof and warning under this
friendly disguise.
"I just believe Lily does mean that play for me," she said to herself,
"and she has no right to. I wish she'd mind her own business." Then,
rising and moving away with a very superb air, she said aloud, "That's
a very foolish, tiresome play, and I shan't stay to see any more of it."
"Oh! it's done," said Lily; "the disobedient children are all used up.
We'll fish them out now, and lay them in the sun to dry. I do wish we
could have some of the ducklings here; it would be such fun."
Other people were now beginning to flock down to the rocks, for this
was the favorite resort in the afternoons; and numerous groups were to
be seen, scattered here and there, in such convenient resting-places
as they might find, watching the breaking of the waves, and all the
mingled beauties of sea and sky. Among them came Mr. Powers, Mr. and
Mrs. Norris, Mrs. Stone and the little Gordons' mother; and Mr. Norris
asked if there were not a cluster of "Sunbeams" who would like to shed
the light of their rays upon "Indian Rock."
Yes, indeed! Lily had painted the glories of "Indian Rock" in such
glowing terms, that they were only too eager to accept the invitation;
and with the help of many a lift, pull, and push from the strong arms
of the gentlemen, the whole party, great and small, were soon landed
on that enchanting spot. For there each one of the children had been
forbidden to venture, unless in company with some older and experienced
person; and their nurses had been told not to lead them there. For
"Indian Rock" was a dangerous spot, unless one trod it with care, or
had the guidance and support of a strong, firm hand.
"Papa," said Mamie, as her father helped her up to the top of a
slippery ledge, "I'm sure I do not think the breakwater could be more
dangerous than this, and I don't see why you could not let me go there
just as well as here. Lily's mamma lets her go there with only Nora or
Tom, and I'm sure I don't see why I can't."
Much to Mamie's surprise, and somewhat to her alarm, her father
now spoke quite sternly to her, bidding her put all thought of the
breakwater out of her head, since, dangerous or not, her mother was
afraid to have her go there, and his word had been passed that she
should not be allowed to do so.
After this, she dared say no more; but still she silently fretted and
murmured, and thought herself hardly used, thereby losing half her
pleasure in the beautiful scene before her.
It was two or three days before any of the children came down to play
in their pool again. Other pleasures took up their time and attention;
but, at last, one bright, sunny afternoon, it was proposed to go.
When the hour arrived, however, Lily and Belle were invited to go for
a drive and a visit to the light-house; and the juvenile party was
reduced to four. Lily kindly lent her ships and boats, and a new supply
of unhappy passengers had been provided; but these did not satisfy
Mabel, who, since the day on which she had first seen the ducklings,
had never ceased to wish that she could see them swim.
"You've been here the longest; would you mind asking Mrs. Clark to lend
us one of the ducklings to take down to the Rocks this afternoon?" she
said to Lily, as the latter, ready dressed for the drive, stood upon
the piazza, waiting for the carriage.
"I should think I _would_ mind!" exclaimed Lily. "I would not do it
for any thing. Why, Mabel, she's the crossest old thing that ever
lived. This morning when I came up from the bath, I asked her for a
ginger-cake, and she told me I was always stuffing! Stuffing! Such a
horrid word to say! And besides, it's not true. I'm not eating all the
time, and mamma gave me leave to ask for the cake."
"Didn't she give it to you?" asked Mabel.
"Oh, yes, she gave me a whole plateful; at least, she was going to; but
you don't think I was going to take them after that! No, indeedy!"
"But I don't want her to _give_ us a duckling, only to lend us one to
swim it down in our pool," said Mabel. "Wouldn't you dare to ask her?"
"I'd dare enough," answered Lily, who seldom confessed to dread of
living thing, unless it were a horse; "but I know it would be of no
use; and I never ask people for things when I'm sure they don't want to
give them to me. Here's the carriage."
This was not Mabel's doctrine. Like Mamie Stone, she had a great deal
of faith in fretting or worrying for that which other people did not
wish to grant, knowing from experience that she often, by this means,
gained her point.
Having seen Belle and Lily off, she sauntered out to the back lot where
the chickens and ducks were kept, and stood looking at the ducklings
with a growing desire to have one to play with. Should she go and ask
Mrs. Clark?
Before she had fully made up her mind to do so, the woman herself came
around the corner of the house, and the next moment her loud, sharp
voice struck disagreeably on Mabel's ear, and put all thoughts of
asking a favor from her quite out of the little girl's mind.
"Now look here! What are you about there? You let them chickens alone,
and go round to your own side of the house. I don't want the boarders'
children meddling round here."
Such was the greeting which Mabel received; not very encouraging
certainly, and she moved away with a scowl at Mrs. Clark which did not
make her look much more amiable than the loud-voiced scold herself.
"I wasn't touching your old chickens," she called out as soon as she
thought herself at a safe distance.
But, instead of going back to the house, she walked on to the end of
the lot where it was divided from the next field by a row of currant
bushes and a stone wall. Walking along by the bushes, without any
particular purpose, and thinking it was time for her to go and see if
the other children were ready for the walk to the Rocks, she heard a
curious little noise among the bushes.
Stooping down and peering in at the spot whence it seemed to come, she
saw one of the ducklings lying on the ground, and making the faint
sound which had attracted her attention.
"I wonder how it came here, so far from its hen-mother and the other
ducklings," she said to herself. "I could take it up now if I liked,
and carry it to the Rocks, and neither the hen nor Mrs. Clark could see
me."
The temptation was strong. Mrs. Clark had vanished into the house; and
the next moment Mabel had the duckling in her hand, hand and bird both
hidden beneath the little overskirt of her dress, and she was running
rapidly out of the gate which opened on a cross road by the side of the
house.
Then she heard Alice and Julia Gordon calling her.
"Mabel! Where are you, Mabel? We are ready to go;" and Nanette's
voice, "Ou êtes-vous donc, Mademoiselle?" and although she had no
intention of keeping her prize a secret, it was with a half-guilty
feeling that she went forward and joined them, still keeping her hand
hidden beneath her overskirt. She would let the other children see what
she had there when they reached the rocks, but not now.
But she was not allowed to keep her secret so long; for as they were
walking along the path which lay above the cliffs, Julia Gordon said,--
"What do you keep your hand under your skirt for, Mabel?"
Mabel looked around before she answered. She had tried to persuade
herself that she had done nothing wrong in "borrowing" the duckling for
an afternoon's play, since no one had told her she was not to have it;
but, nevertheless, she felt rather doubtful of what the nurses would
say when they knew what she had there.
The three women in charge of the little party had fallen somewhat
behind; and Mamie, having taken it into her head to draw the wagon in
which Lulu was seated, was also with them, and out of hearing for the
moment, if she lowered her voice.
"Don't tell if I tell you something," said Mabel, in answer to Julia's
question, and speaking to both her and Alice.
"No, what is it?"
"You and Alice come close, one on each side of me," said Mabel. "I
don't want any one else to know it till we are at the pool." Then, as
her companions obeyed, full of eager curiosity, "It's a duckling; one
of the new little ducklings that have the hen for a mother; and we'll
swim it in the pool."
"Oh, what fun!" said Julia.
"Did Mrs. Clark lend it to you?" asked Alice.
"No, I didn't ask her, she's so cross," answered Mabel; "but it wasn't
any harm, for the duckling had come away from its mother, anyhow. I
found it under the currant bushes, and I expect it will do it a great
deal of good to teach it to swim. Mrs. Clark ought to be very much
obliged to us."
"Perhaps the poor little thing had run away to see if it could find any
water," said Julia. "Ducks always want to swim, I believe, and this one
had no mother duck to teach it."
"Yes; so you see it's quite a kindness," said Mabel.
"Let's see it," said Alice.
"Presently, when we are at the rock where the pool is," said Mabel.
"I don't want to take him out now for fear he begins to wiggle again
before I get him in the water, and he knows what we are going to do
with him. Won't he be glad?"
"Yes," said Julia. "Does he wiggle much?"
"Not now," said Mabel. "At first he wiggled dreadfully, but I held him
tighter, so he couldn't; and he made a little noise, too, but I shut up
his bill close, so he couldn't. He's very quiet and good now."
"Aren't you going to let Mamie see him?" asked Alice.
"Oh, yes, when we are ready to put him into the water; but I dare
say she'll go and say something hateful about him when she sees him.
Mamie's real ugly to me, and I can't bear her."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
VI.
_POOR LITTLE WAGTAIL._
ARRIVED at the Rocks, the children speedily made their way to the
pool which they considered their own special property, but, to their
great disgust, found that their rights there had not been properly
appreciated; for not only had some intruders been making free with
their breakwater, but it was, as Mamie said, actually "unbuilt," and
the stones lying scattered about in all directions.
But this was soon lost sight of in the new interest of the duckling;
and Mamie was speedily taken into the secret.
She was pleased with this addition to the afternoon's entertainment,
and therefore did not express the disapprobation which Mabel had
rather looked for, saying "nothing hateful," but becoming as eager as
the other children to give the poor little bird his first "lesson in
swimming." In fact, I am afraid that all four intensely enjoyed this
bit of mischief,--the outwitting of Mrs. Clark being considered a great
triumph, and quite a feat on Mabel's part.
And now they felt secure from interference. Lulu could not be brought
here upon the rocks, and her nurse must keep her above on the bank; and
the maids who attended Mabel and the little Gordons, having made their
charges promise not to leave the broad, flat rock where they were quite
safe, had preferred to join her, and keep an eye upon the children from
a little distance. No one else was near, save some strangers seated
upon a ledge above them; and now, closing around the pool, they were
ready for "such fun."
Stooping down to the tiny sheet of water, Mabel at last hastily
withdrew her hand from beneath her skirt, and gently dropped the
duckling into it.
[Illustration: Mamie. p. 112.]
But instead of seeming to enjoy his introduction to the new element,
and beginning to swim fearlessly about, as some of the children knew
young ducks usually do, he rolled over on his side with drooping head
and wings, and lay floating helplessly on the water, the only motion he
made being a feeble opening and shutting of his bill, as though gasping
for air.
"What a stupid little duck!" said Mamie. "He ought to swim right away.
Once I saw a whole litter of ducklings go right in the water, and swim
as well as the big ducks. Here, sir! get up and swim."
And she lifted the duckling's head with her finger, and tried to put
him in an upright position; but the instant she let him go he fell over
again.
"You naughty, lazy thing!" said Mabel. "Now you've _got_ to swim,
sir, so you may as well do it. Here, let's poke him with this stick."
"I think there's something the matter with him," said Julia. "He looks
kind of flabby and sick; don't you think he does?"
"Oh, yes! look at his eyes; they're growing all white," said Mamie.
"Take him out of the water," said Alice. "You, Mabel; he's yours."
But if the duckling were sick or ailing, Mabel had no desire to claim
him. She was frightened now, and the words of the other children added
to her alarm.
"What have you done to him, Mabel?" asked Julia.
"I didn't do any thing," she answered snappishly; "and you shan't say I
did."
"Was he this way when you found him?" asked Alice, lifting the duck out
of the water.
"I don't know," pouted Mabel. "No, he wasn't; 'cause he wiggled and
squirmed so I could hardly hold him at first."
"I expect you've hurt him then," said Mamie. "You ought to be ashamed
to touch him."
Alas, poor little Wagtail! As Alice laid him upon the rock he fluttered
his wings feebly, stretched out his feet, gasped once more, and lay
quite motionless. No wonder that he had, at last, lain "quiet and good"
in the thoughtless little hand which had grasped him so tightly to
still his "wiggling."
"O Mabel! you _have_ hurt him. He's dead, I believe," said Julia in a
tone of horrified distress.
Thoroughly ashamed and sorry now that she believed herself to have
done such fearful mischief, Mabel raised a doleful cry which speedily
brought her own nurse and the maid of the little Gordons to inquire
into the cause of the trouble.
The story was told by Julia, for Mabel could not make herself
understood; but, to the surprise of all the children, it was looked
upon as a good joke by both the women, who laughed immoderately when
they heard it.
Nannette, knowing that she would be called to account if Mabel appeared
with red eyes and swollen cheeks, hastened to soothe and comfort her
little mistress, telling her she need not be troubled, since her mamma
would make good the loss of the duckling to Mrs. Clark, and would not
let the latter scold her.
But Mabel was hard to be comforted. She felt as if she had been cruel
as well as naughty, and it made her very uncomfortable to think that
the poor little bird had come to its death in her hands. Though wilful
and rather selfish, she was a tender-hearted child where pain or
suffering was concerned, and now it was with a kind of sick horror
that she shuddered and cried over her work. So great was her distress
that even Mamie, forgetting the smothered ill-will between them, tried
to console her, but all in vain; and she made such an ado that it
attracted the attention of the party on the rock beyond them, and one
of the ladies rose and came towards them.
"What is the trouble? Can I be of any help here?" she asked in a kind
voice. Then seeing the dead bird, she added, "Ah! I see, your duckling
is dead. How did it come, my dear?" laying her hand on Mabel's head.
Mabel had ceased her cries at sound of the strange voice, but she did
not speak; and Mamie answered for her.