RESTITUTION.
WHEN Florry saw that the plant was gone, she could hardly believe her
eyes. She searched all through the lilac-bushes, thinking she might
have forgotten the place where she had hidden it. But no; there was
the mark the pot had made on the damp ground, close to the fence. Some
passer-by in the street had seen it, and carried it off bodily. There
was no doubt of that.
Florry stood looking at the place where the plant had been, with a
feeling of dumb despair. What should she do now?
"Come in, Florry, my dear," called her mother, from the door. "The dew
is falling heavily, and you will take cold. Don't you think you had
better go to bed, directly?"
"Yes, please, mother," answered Florry.
She kissed her mother and father good-night, and went up-stairs to her
own pretty little room. It was small and plainly furnished; but there
was a pretty paper on the walls, and a buff curtain edged with blue
over the one large window, which made quite a deep recess at one side
of the room; and under the curtain stood Florry's great treasure—a
pretty green and gold flower-pot, containing a very fine fuchsia of
rather an uncommon variety—a white one with a full double purple
centre, and long stamens. There was a toilet-table, covered like the
curtains, a bureau, and a convenient writing-desk, over which hung a
beautiful chromo which Emma Hausen had given her on her last birthday.
It seemed to Florry that she was reminded of the Hausens at every turn.
How good and kind they had always been to her. She had stayed with Emma
a week at a time; and Mrs. Hausen was always lending her books and
papers. Florry felt ashamed, as she remembered the way she had thought
about Emma only that afternoon.
She said her prayers and read her chapter, and learned her two verses
to recite in school next day; but nothing seemed to bring her any
comfort.
"Oh, if I could only carry the plant back, I should not mind so much,"
she thought. "And, now I come to think, I don't believe they have any
more of that kind. I am sure I never saw one like it. I dare say they
were new plants, and that was the reason Mr. Crampton set them there in
the shade. I should not mind so much, if it wasn't gone."
"But you can't carry it back, and there is no use in doing anything
about it," whispered the tempter, in Florry's ear. "You have got rid of
the plant by good luck; and now you have only to let the matter rest,
and do no more, and nobody will ever know. Mrs. Hausen won't miss the
plant. Very likely she does not know that she had it; and at any rate,
if she does, she will never think of accusing you."
"But, then, I shall still be a thief," thought Florry; "and perhaps
somebody else may be blamed. Oh, dear, what shall I do?"
And Flora buried her face in her pillow and sobbed aloud.
"My dear child, what is the matter?" asked Mrs. Lester, opening the
door. "Does your shoulder hurt you?"
"I don't know," sobbed Flora, crying as if her heart would break. "Oh,
mother, what shall I do? I'm so wicked."
"Tell me all about it," said Mrs. Lester, sitting down on the side of
the bed.
Florry began at the beginning, and told her mother the whole story of
her trouble from first to last.
"And I had made up my mind what to do," added Flora. "I thought I would
go and carry the plant back, and tell Mrs. Hausen all about it. And now
it is gone, and I can't; and what shall I do?"
"Try to think whether you have not something else with which to replace
the red plant," said Mrs. Lester.
Florry looked at her mother, and then her eyes wandered round the room
till they rested on her beautiful fuchsia.
"Do you mean my fuchsia, mother?"
"I will leave you to think about that, Florry. You are truly sorry, are
you not, my child?"
"Indeed I am, mother; and, oh, so ashamed. Mrs. Hausen has been so good
to me; and Emma and I have always been such good friends. It seems as
if I had been so mean and ungrateful—worse than if I had taken it from
any one else."
"There is some one else who has done a great deal more for you than
Mrs. Hausen, Florry—one to whom you owe it that you have such kind
friends. Have you thought about Him, and how you have offended Him, my
dear?"
"Yes, mother," answered Florry, in a low voice. "And I asked Him to
forgive me, and help me not to do so again."
"That was right, my daughter; and if you truly repent, as I have no
doubt you do, He will surely forgive you. And you should ask Him to
show you some way by which you can make amends. And if you are honest,
and really wish to do so, I have no doubt He will teach you the right
way. Now try to go to sleep, and another time we will talk more about
this matter, and see whether we cannot get at the root of the trouble."
"I know what the root was," said Florry, humbly. "I have been naughty
this long time, mother. I have been so envious of Emma because she was
so much richer than I: and this afternoon, when I was looking at Mr.
Hausen's garden, I said to myself that it was a great shame for them to
be so rich, while we were so poor; and I almost wished something would
happen to them. I knew it was wrong, and yet I kept on thinking about
it. I don't believe I should have taken the red plant at all, only for
that."
"I dare say you are right, daughter. Most of our sudden surprises of
temptation, when we come to examine them, will be found not half so
much surprises as we suppose. But we will not talk any more to-night.
Does your shoulder pain you?"
"No, mother, not much. Mamma, I think I know what I shall do, if you
will let me. I think I shall carry my fuchsia to Mrs. Hausen. She has
none like it, I know; and she said it was a very uncommon one. Don't
you think it is worth as much as the red plant?"
"Quite as much, if not more. I think you have come to the right
conclusion, Florry; and I am glad to see that your repentance is
earnest and sincere. Goodnight, my daughter."
The next morning, directly after breakfast, Florry took her fuchsia
and went up to Mr. Hausen's. The walk had never seemed so long or the
pot so heavy, and more than once she had to sit down and rest; but she
persevered: at the door she met Mr. Crampton.
"Good-morning, Miss Florry," said he. "What a fine plant you have
there! I think, if it is yours, I must beg for a cutting some day."
"I am bringing it to Mrs. Hausen," answered Florry.
"She will be glad to have it, I am sure. We had some beautiful plants
sent from the city only yesterday morning, and last night some rascal
stole one of the best of them."
"Crampton," called Mr. Hausen, from the side door, "come here, I want
you."
Florry was thankful to be saved the trouble of a reply. She walked
on to the door, and asking for Mrs. Hausen, she was shown into the
library, where that lady was sitting. It was a lovely room, with great
bay windows and book-cases filled and running over with books; not all
of the same size and binding, and looking as if they had been bought to
ornament the shelves, but of all sorts and sizes and ages; for both Mr.
and Mrs. Hausen were great readers. Mrs. Hausen was sitting at her own
pretty desk; but she laid down her pen, as Florry entered, and gave her
a hearty welcome.
"Please, Mrs. Hausen, I have brought you my fuchsia, to make amends,"
said Florry, plunging at once into her subject and, in her eagerness,
beginning at the wrong end. "I couldn't bring back the red plant,
because somebody stole it from me; but I am very sorry; and I brought
you my fuchsia, because it was the only plant I had; and, oh, please do
forgive me!" And here Florry confused matters still more by bursting
into tears, and crying as if her heart would break.
"My dear little girl, what is the matter? I don't in the least
understand," said Mrs. Hausen, who could not, as the saying is, "make
head or tail" of Florry's account. "What had you to do with the loss of
the red plant?"
"I took it," answered Florry, drying her eyes, and trying to speak
plainly. "I was looking at the plants last night, and I saw this, with
some others, over behind the trees—and—and—"
"Why, Florry Lester!" exclaimed Emma, whom Florry had not seen before,
as she sat on a low seat in the window. "Well, if ever!"
"Hush, Emma!" said Mrs. Hausen, drawing Florry to her side. "And so you
were tempted to take it. I dare say you thought I should not miss it
among so many; and you gave way to the temptation, and carried it home.
Was that the way?"
"Yes, ma'am," sobbed Flora.
"Well, and what then?"
"Then I was sorry the minute I thought what I had done; and I carried
the plant home and hid it behind some bushes, till I could think what
to do. And then I thought I would come and bring it back the first
thing in the morning; and when I went to put it in a safer place, it
was gone. So then I told mother how naughty I had been, and asked her
what I should do; and she told me I must come and tell you all about
it. And I felt so badly because I could not bring back the plant; and
mother told me that if I asked God, he would show me how to make it up
to you some way. So I did; and then I thought of my fuchsia, and I have
brought it. And, oh, Mrs. Hausen, please do keep it!"
"Well, of all the girls in the world to do such a thing!" exclaimed
Emma. "Why, I always thought you were just perfect, Florry. But it was
good in her to give you her nice fuchsia; wasn't it?"
"It was right, my dear, and shows that Florry was in earnest. But,
Florry, your fuchsia is worth a great deal more than my red plant was."
"Please, do take it," was all Florry could say.
"Very well, I will take it then," said Mrs. Hausen, seeing that Florry
was in earnest. "Mr. Crampton will be very much pleased; for this is a
new variety, and better than anything we have. I will tell him to set
some cuttings as soon as possible, and then you shall have one. Run and
get ready for school, Emma, and you and Florry can go down together.
You never did such a thing before, did you, Florry?" she asked, when
Emma had gone.
"No, ma'am, never. I never even touched a flower without asking."
"And I don't believe you ever will again. How came you to do it this
time?"
"I believe it was because I was so envious," whispered Florry. "I
thought it was too bad that Emma should have so many more nice things
than I had; and that she should be rich while I was poor. I didn't care
anything about all the nice things I had myself, because I thought you
had so many more."
"I understand the feeling," said Mrs. Hausen. "I have had it myself."
"You!" said Florry, surprised. "I am sure I thought you had everything
that money could buy."
Mrs. Hausen smiled rather sadly.
"There are a good many things that money will not buy, my dear. When my
first child was born, it was a very bright, pretty little thing till
it was three or four months old. Then it began to pine away, and grow
crooked and weakly; and when it was three years old, it could neither
walk nor sit up, nor do any of the things that healthy children can do
at that age."
"Poor little thing," said Florry, very much interested. "How hard it
must have been for you."
"It was, indeed; but I made it harder than it would have been. I let my
child's misfortunes make me envious of mothers who had healthy, bright
little ones; and I could not bear to have such children near me. I even
went so far that, when my sister's child fell downstairs and broke its
leg, I found myself, for a moment, hoping that it would always be lame.
That opened my eyes to see how wicked I had become. I asked forgiveness
for my sin, and set myself resolutely to conquer it; and, I am thankful
to say, I succeeded; so that nobody was more glad than I was, when the
little boy got quite well."
"And what became of your own baby?" asked Flora, very much interested.
"She lived to be five years old, and then she was taken home. See, here
is her picture."
Flora looked long and earnestly at the little miniature that Mrs.
Hausen opened for her.
"She was very pretty; wasn't she?" she finally remarked.
"Yes, she had a beautiful face; and often showed sparks of great
intelligence, though she never learned to talk plainly. So, you see, my
dear, that I have been envious as well as you; and, also, that there
are some things that money cannot buy."
"Money made a difference, though,' said Flora.
"I don't understand you, Florry."
"I don't know how to say what I mean, exactly," said Flora. "There is
Mrs. Murray—Anne Murray, you know, the coloured washerwoman. She loves
her little hump-backed girl dearly, and is as good to her as she can
be; and yet she has to go away and leave her all day, with nobody but
the neighbours to look after her; and in winter, Chloe has no place to
sit, only in the kitchen full of steam and the smell of cooking, and
all. That wasn't the way with your little girl."
Mrs. Hausen smiled. "You are a very thoughtful child, Florry. I see
what you mean, and you are right. Money did make a difference. Poor
Alice never wanted for any comfort or pleasure she could enjoy; and
I gave my whole time to her, as I could not have done if I had been
obliged to work in order to support her. But tell me about Mrs.
Murray's little girl. How old is she?"
"She is eight years old; but she is so little she doesn't look more
than five," replied Florry. "She is ever so smart, too. She can read
and sew; and she dresses her dolls so nicely, for all she has hardly
anything to make its clothes of. And you never saw anybody so patient
as she is."
"Is her mother a good washer?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am; and she does up white dresses beautifully."
"I will see what can be done for her. Remember, Emma, not to say a word
about this," said Mrs. Hausen, in a whisper. "I should be very much
displeased if you did. Poor Florry would never hear the last of it; and
she has been punished enough, poor little thing. Now, remember!"
"Of course I sha'n't, mamma," answered Emma. "Poor Florry! I would not
do it for anything."
And, at the time, she meant what she said.