A NEW LEAF, AND HOW IT WAS FILLED.
The next morning Amy awoke early. It was cold and rainy, and she felt
inclined to turn on her pillow, but the feeling came strongly over her
that she had something _new_ before her, that this week was to be the
starting-point of a new life; and the verse, too, which had been the
last on her lips in the evening, was the first in her heart in the
morning, "By love serve one another." She remembered that the fire had
to be lit, and the water brought from the spring for the kettle; so
she jumped out of bed, and was quickly dressed and ready to go
downstairs. Kitty would not follow her example. She did not forget to
ask God's blessing on the day, and then she called Kitty again. But
Kitty was very sleepy; she only said she was sure it would be time to
get up in half an hour, and wrapped herself up comfortably and went to
sleep again. Amy thought it was rather selfish of Kitty to leave all
the work to her; but she said nothing, and tripped downstairs. She had
soon brought the water and lighted the fire, and brushed and dusted
everything neat and bright, and then she found she had a little time
to spare. Near their cottage lived a poor old widow, named Hill. Amy
knew she could hardly hobble about her house to do her work, and she
thought it would be a nice way of "serving one another," if she were
just to run down and light Widow Hill's fire, and put her room neat.
No sooner planned than done. Away she ran; half-an-hour, with Amy's
light feet and busy fingers, did the work which would have cost the
old woman an hour or two; and rich with the widow's thanks, and
hungry with work, she tripped back to breakfast, happy to think how
her mother would be pleased with what she had done.
But on entering the cottage, Amy's spirits received a sudden check;
the family were all at breakfast, and her father spoke rather severely
to her about her never being in time for anything. Amy did not answer;
she felt ill-used, and she was too much hurt to say what she had been
about; so she sat down in silence to her breakfast. Kitty was beside
her, yawning as if she had only just got out of bed. "Yet," thought
Amy, "no one ever scolds her; it is no good to try to please people."
So Amy sat, getting angrier and angrier, and not enjoying her
breakfast a bit, and thinking everybody very unkind, although she said
nothing; you might, perhaps, have thought she bore the rebuke very
meekly. Now, I do not mean to deny that this was a trial for poor
Amy. It is a very great trial to be blamed and misunderstood when we
have been seeking to please people; but it is the pride of our own
hearts which makes it so trying. If we were lowly, harsh words would
not have half the power to wound us. Amy felt this, and she felt she
was doing wrong, but that only made her more vexed; for instead of
acknowledging her fault to herself, and asking God to forgive her and
strengthen her against it, she went on brooding over her wrongs and
nursing her anger in silence. After breakfast, Kitty asked her if she
had been working in their garden all this time.
"No," said Amy shortly.
"Have you been learning your lessons for next Sunday, then?"
"No," answered Amy still more sharply.
Kitty looked puzzled for a minute, and then she laughed, and said, "I
can't see what good you've got, Amy, by being in such haste to get
up. You seem to have done nothing but lose your temper."
This was altogether more than Amy could bear; she made a bitter reply,
and a quarrel began between the sisters, which made their walk to
school very uncomfortable. It was so different from yesterday, Amy
felt ready to cry, but she was ashamed that Kitty should see. Poor Amy
entered the school-room with a sore heart. A bad temper is not likely
to get sweet of itself, so Amy went on more and more discontented with
herself, and her lessons, and everything else, until the class was
called to read their morning lesson. The text from the Bible which
stood at the head of the lesson happened to be, "For if you, from your
heart, forgive not your brother his trespasses, how can your heavenly
Father forgive you your trespasses?" Amy had to read these words, and
they struck to her heart; she thought of what sinful and angry
feelings she had been cherishing, and how much she had to ask God to
forgive her, and how little she felt inclined to forgive in her sister
and others; and afterwards, as she wrote her copy, hot tears fell on
the page, and she confessed her fault in her heart to God, and begged
him to forgive her. Then she felt happier at once. After school, one
of her school-fellows was kept in to finish a sum; she was crying, and
did not seem able to do it, so Amy went quietly to her, and showed her
the way, and then danced off to the play-ground. On their way home she
had a harder struggle to make, and that was to tell Kitty she was
sorry for her hasty words; but she conquered, and Kitty having
confessed that she too had been in the wrong, the sisters felt happy
again together.
This was true repentance; it was a sorrow for and confession of sin,
and then forsaking the sin; it was a change of mind. That evening Amy
felt very serious when she thought over the day's doings; she was
weaker than she had thought--it was harder to do right than she had
believed; but she resolved to try harder again to-morrow. So she went
to bed hopeful, although rather sad. We shall see how her resolutions
were carried out.