A GUILTY CONSCIENCE.
It was an all-day matter. Mrs. Ramsey bravely held her place in the
shop, gazed at by curious eyes, but she calmly waited the return of
her carriage with her husband.
That gentleman's appearance with two officers rather took down Mrs.
Hawkins, and although she still persisted in claiming Maggie, after a
long parley and a visit to the office of a lawyer, the matter was
finally settled, and Maggie was borne triumphantly away, and handed
over to Miss Barnes.
"If there ever was a good woman whom riches cannot spoil it is Mrs.
Ramsey," said the teacher, when she heard Maggie's account of her day.
"You ought to thank God for such a friend, Maggie."
Thus Maggie was established in her new home. She felt the restraint,
it must be admitted, and was not by any means a model child, for the
life she had been living had not been one that helped her to much
goodness; but she had very strong affections and a grateful heart;
therefore, to remind her that Mrs. Ramsey or Edna would be
disappointed in her, if she were naughty, was the surest means of
bringing penitence for a fault, a means which does not always work as
well with children brought up in a purer atmosphere.
Edna had occasion to learn more of Maggie, as she was allowed a weekly
visit to the Home to see her little friend. One day Maggie confessed
to her that she was far from perfect, and told, with tears in her
eyes, of obstinate faults. "But I will be good. I'll try harder'n
ever," promised the child, "for Miss Barnes told me I didn't love you
nor Mrs. Ramsey when I behave bad, for if I did I'd want to show you.
Do you care when I'm bad?" she asked, wistfully.
"Of course I do," replied Edna. "What had you been doing to make Miss
Barnes say that?"
Maggie was silent for a moment. "There's a little girl here with long
curls--she's awful pretty, an' every one says she'll get 'dopted some
day 'cause she's so pretty--an' one day she kicked me under the bench
when some ladies was here, an'--an' I pinched her, an' the ladies saw
me, an' made a fuss about it, so Miss Barnes sent me out of the room."
"Did you tell on her?" asked Edna.
"No, I didn't."
"I like you for that," she replied, sympathizing with the not telling,
for her loyal little heart forbade her to tell on Louis many a time
when he had done some little mean trick.
Therefore on this evening of her visit to Maggie, her mind was full of
such things. "I wouldn't let a poor little Friendlesser be better than
I am," she said to herself, "and I'll be twice as nice to Louis now."
In consequence she was quite disturbed when she missed her cousin from
the supper table that evening.
"Why, where is Louis?" she asked.
"He is in his room," replied Aunt Elizabeth, in a tone which forbade
further questioning. Edna glanced at her uncle; he, too, looked stern
and unyielding, and no chance was given the little girl that evening
to find out the cause of Louis' banishment. She had become very fond
of her cousin, although she did not always quite approve of him. He
was a gentle, affectionate boy, easily influenced, and being an only
child, had been allowed his own way, so that he was very much spoiled.
He was, nevertheless, a very agreeable companion for a little girl,
for he did not disdain to play with dolls at times, and would dress up
and play "lady" when nothing more exciting was suggested. He was very
fond of keeping shop, a drug store he usually preferred to have it;
this probably on account of the very small pair of scales among his
toys. He served Edna and the dolls a certain delectable drink made by
filling with sugar and water, bottles in which remained a few drops of
vanilla extract; these bottles Ellen bestowed upon the children, and
they considered the mixture they prepared something very delicious.
The rest of the stock consisted chiefly of sand, slate-pencil dust,
dried beans, and bits of broken twigs. Many a happy hour did the two
children spend playing together; therefore, when Edna felt that some
stern decree had been passed upon Louis, her little tender heart felt
it deeply.
At breakfast time no Louis appeared, nor did he take his place in
school that day. To his school-fellows' question, "What is the matter
with Louis?" Edna was obliged to answer, "I don't know."
After dinner, which seemed a more solemn affair than usual, the little
girl could stand it no longer. To her questions Ellen could give no
satisfactory answers, so, watching an opportunity, when Uncle Justus
was taking his afternoon nap and when Aunt Elizabeth had gone to some
meeting, Edna stole up to the storeroom, whose window was diagonally
opposite to that of Louis' room. After a moment's hesitation she
tapped on the window; there was no response from Louis' room. Then
Edna decided to write a note and slip it under his door. This she
managed to do. "I am going to the storeroom, open your window," was
what she wrote, and the note served its purpose, for when the
storeroom window was raised there stood Louis before his window.
"O, Louis," cried Edna. "Can't you get out?"
"No," was the reply.
"O, dear, I wish you could. I have such a lot to tell you. What are
you shut up for? What did you do?"
Louis looked sullen. "I didn't do anything."
"O!" said Edna. "Are you sure? Then why did they shut you up?"
"Just for hatefulness," replied Louis. "I wasn't doing a thing."
This seemed a dreadful state of affairs, and Edna hardly knew what to
think. "I wish I could let you out," she said, sympathetically, "but I
can't."
Louis stood with downcast eyes, hammering with his knife upon the
sill.
"Are you sure you haven't done anything?" persisted Edna.
"Of course I haven't. They just want to show their power over me, and
I am half starved, I haven't had anything but bread and water."
Edna's eyes filled. "I wish I had something nice to give you to eat,"
she said, in distress.
"I wish you had," replied Louis.
"O, I hear some one," cried Edna, suddenly, and she shut down the
window, hastily.
But the footsteps proved to be only those of Ellen going through the
hall. Edna, nevertheless, did not dare to venture into the storeroom
again at once, for Uncle Justus was apt any minute to awaken, and
thinking to divert Louis by playing with Moggins in the yard, the
little girl went out and tried to display the cat to the boy at the
window above, but he stood watching her with such an unsmiling face
that Edna was overcome with pity.
"I suppose he is almost starved," she said, to herself. "It isn't
likely Ellen would dare to give me anything for him. I wish I had some
pennies, but I have given them all to auntie for the fair." She stood
pondering over the subject when her eye caught sight of a covered dish
standing on a bench by the kitchen door. Edna lifted the cover and saw
that the dish was full of baked apples which had been placed there to
cool for supper. Without stopping to think, she picked up two of the
apples by their stems and thrust them into her little clean
handkerchief which, still unfolded, had been lying in her pocket.
Holding the four corners of the handkerchief together, she ran
upstairs to the storeroom. She had heard Uncle Justus go out for a
walk, and she knew that Aunt Elizabeth would not return till dark.
In response to the raising of the window Louis' window also opened. "I
have something for you," said Edna, hastily; "but I don't know how to
get it to you. It's in my handkerchief. Wait a minute." She had an
idea, for presently out of the window came a rod, on the end of which
was tied the handkerchief of baked apples. Exercising much care, Edna
managed to direct the pole--which was the handle of the window
brush--to Louis' window and the apples were taken in. Then Edna drew
back the stick, set it up in its place, and ran up to her room to
think about it.
She did not feel comfortable over the matter. Only a short time ago
her aunt and uncle had been kinder to her than she had reason to
expect they could be, and now to find them so harsh to Louis seemed a
contradiction. Perhaps he had been naughty and deserved the
punishment. She remembered with regret that Louis did not always speak
the truth; once or twice he had screened himself by blaming her for
something of which she was innocent. At all events she had no right to
take the apples. Why, they didn't belong to her! Of course, they
didn't. She wouldn't eat any for supper, and in that way she could
replace them. Edna was very fond of baked apples, and the sacrifice
decided upon, she felt more comfortable.
So, at supper she did refuse the apples, an unusual proceeding which
caused her aunt to look at her so sharply that Edna felt those
penetrating eyes were seeing straight into her very heart, and she
colored up, taking a very long, slow drink of water to hide her
embarrassment.
She was very quiet all during the evening, meekly holding some worsted
for her aunt, then taking a very dull book, and trying to read it. But
she was very glad when bedtime came.
Usually it was a very few minutes after her head touched the pillow
that she was asleep; but this night slumber did not easily come, and
the pillow was very damp under the rosy cheek which lay upon it. "O,
dear!" sighed the conscience-stricken child. "It didn't do a bit of
good to go without the apples; I can't go to sleep, and it's been
nearly all night since I came up stairs. O, dear, what shall I do?"
The moments became harder and harder to bear, and, finally, with but
one thought in her mind, she slipped out of bed and down stairs. It
was not very late, although it seemed so to the child. Uncle Justus
and Aunt Elizabeth were still in the sitting-room. They were surprised
by the appearance of a little form standing in the doorway.
"Why, Edna, what are you doing here in your night clothes?" exclaimed
Aunt Elizabeth. "Are you ill?"
"No," replied Edna, below her breath, while the lump in her throat
seemed to grow bigger and bigger.
After the first glance Uncle Justus's eyes did not turn from the
newspaper he was reading.
"What is the matter, then?" asked Aunt Elizabeth, with a piercing
look. "You are not ill."
"No, I'm not ill, Aunt Elizabeth," replied the child. "I'm wicked.
I've stoled."
"What do you mean? What was it you took?" asked Aunt Elizabeth.
"Two baked apples."
"And that is why you refused them at supper. When did you eat them?"
"I didn't eat them," replied Edna, hesitatingly. "O, please, auntie, I
won't eat any the next time either. Please shut me up, and feed me on
bread and water, like Louis."
"Did you take the apples for Louis?" suddenly asked Uncle Justus.
Edna gave an assenting nod, while she looked up with appealing eyes.
"How did you get them to him?"
"Through the window, on the end of a stick."
A little queer look came into Uncle Justus's face.
"You will take cold standing there," said Aunt Elizabeth, returning to
her work. "Go back to bed."
"Won't you please shut me up and let Louis out?" said Edna. "I'll stay
two days, one for him and one for me."
"Go to bed," commanded Aunt Elizabeth, "We'll settle it to-morrow."